Storm
by balai
Summary: When an undefeatable storm threatens Magix, emotions rise, passions flare, insecurities burst, and addictions become clear to their victims. MusaxRiven. Now complete.
1. Prologue

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West.**

**You steal, i get pissed. And i have anger issues sometimes.**

**Summary sucks, sorry.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliating with Winx Club. Hell, if i'm being honest, i don't really want to. But it's my guilty obsession, and i write when i write. **

**Rating:...T? I don't know. I've only gotten to the second chapter so far. So if you're squeemish about "cuss" words, get outta here. They're my language, along with sarcasm and gibberelm (my version of gibberish with absolutely no rhyme or reason).**

**Pairings: Musa/Riven. Of course. Maybe a little of the others, but they're the centers. PDA makes me sick, so there probably won't be too much.**

**I know. I need a life.**

_

* * *

_

"Why are you here?" She pulled her jacket tighter around her, trying to keep out the cold rain, but it was all in vain. She was completely drenched from head to foot, dripping, and from the looks of it he wasn't fairing any better.

_ "Why are _you_?"_

_She couldn't believe him. "Gee, I don't know, maybe—I_ live_ here, dumbass!"_

_He smirked, bemused. She was always hot-headed, and this was a bit explosive even for her. But it wasn't her fault—for three days she'd been confined to silence, to solitude, and he could tell by the way she was shaking and twitching that if she didn't do something about her…_addiction_ soon, she was going to crack. Even considering, he was himself, and he enjoyed every moment spent pushing her limits. "You live under a tree? And here I was, mistaken that Flora was the one with the nature complex."_

_She flexed her fists and glared at him. "Did you come out here just to throw jibes at me and my girls?"_

_"No." Still wearing that incredibly smug smirk that was ever present on his face (when there was no scowl, that is), Riven stepped closer to the tiny blue-haired fairy. Musa glared at him, but somehow her bouncing foot pointed that she was no real threat._

_"Leave," she hissed, her teeth chattering together. The last time she'd seen him, she'd promised herself she never would again. And now, here he was, breaking that promise. She almost didn't seem to mind, seeing the way his dark magenta hair was falling in his face, drenched with rain, seeing the dangerous glint in his violet eyes. His shirt, as well, was skin tight against his muscled torso and she wanted nothing more than to jump him—err, make him leave. She meant she wanted nothing more than for him to…leave. Yes, leave._

_"Are _you_ going to make me?" He was dangerously close to her now. She leaned up to him, as if to kiss him, but then spun around and stomped away. Five steps, then she turned back. Riven watched, bemused, as she shook her hands out and her knee bounced. Her eyes were wide and they looked anywhere but at him. He chuckled. "Withdrawal?"_

_"Shut it." He was right…_

_Riven held up a thin chord, headphones, and swung them around with a grin, mocking her. Ever since Techna had hidden her music players, she would do anything for music._

Anything_._

_Musa's mouth fell open and she stared and without accord her feet moved forward slowly. Only one thing was running through her mind—Riven._

_No, music! Not Riven…_

_With each step she took towards him, towards her fix, he backed up slowly enough for her to not notice and grinned wider—enough that one who didn't know him might mistake the emotion show for a smile._

_"Do you want it, Muse?"_

_At the use of the nickname, Musa halted. She realized what he was doing. How could he do this? Her eyes widened and she shakily stepped back, her muscles tight in resistance. Her voice shook as much as she and he could see the want in her eyes. "N-no."_

_He considered it for a moment. "Too bad." He stowed the music player in the back pocket of his jeans, and with a wink in her direction, slowly walked towards his bike._

_Musa was conflicted. Here she was, presented a fix for her addiction—well, two addictions—from which she was estranged from at Alfea, so her problem arose; take it, or go inside out of the rain? Thunder split the sky above Cloud Tower, and sent light cascading over the entire grounds. She saw every line in Riven's back, every stream of water that hit his face. _

_She needed it._

_Riven felt her behind him, coming closer. He could feel the heat from her body, and hear her soft breath. As a hero, he was trained to do this. But it was more than that—he could smell the soft scent of her hair, of her subtle perfume. He could hear the inaudible humming that was always present when she was around, like tiny wings against still air. The fabric of her jacket rustled as she reached her hand out and…_

_He caught her wrist without even looking at her just before she grabbed the device from his pocket. She froze, still as a statue, and a strangled whimper escaped from her throat. Riven couldn't hold back his grin. He had her exactly where he wanted her._

_Musa's throat constricted and her tongue ran across her teeth. She was shivering still, but this time not from the rain. With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, he turned to face her, an alarmingly hungry glint in his eyes._

_She felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Just one song?" She stared up at him, her deep blue eyes wide and pained._

_He smiled, a wicked smile that sent shivers (more, anyway) down her spine. "No." And then his lips crashed onto hers, not gentle in the least. The kiss was hot, wet, full of desire, lustful, and unrelenting. He pulled her against him, and without a second thought, her legs wrapped around his waist. She wanted to be closer to him, as close as she could be, yet at the same time, flashing red lights were going off in her head._

'Stop this, Musa,'_ her subconscious was screaming._

_Yet she couldn't find the power in her to listen…_

* * *

**Thoughts? comments? Anything? Epilogue completed. Reviews appreciated.**

**xx Echo.**

**P.S. My updates will _not_ be regular. If you like this, put it on alert cos for all I know, it'll be...months. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West**

**You steal, my temper comes up. Maybe.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with Winx club. A guilty pleasure of mine, and i'm nearly sad to admit this in my *cough* advanced age. But addictions can't be smothered easily.**

**Rating: T for...language. Nothing too bad, yet, but i can't promise.**

**Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

Chapter One.

**_A few weeks earlier…_**

"Stop this, Musa." Bloom's hand slammed down on the table in front of the musical princess, making her jump a foot into the air. The spoon she'd been fiddling with went flying and hit Stella, making her glare at Musa.

Musa hadn't noticed anything. "Stop…what?"

Layla shook her head in amusement. "You know what," Bloom said, waving her hands in front of her at the mess sprawled before her blue-haired friend. "You're going to fail this year if you don't get your botany credits—"

"You know, Bloom," Stella cooed as she finished a coat of bright coral nail polish, "repeating a year isn't as bad as it sounds. These _are_ the best years of our lives, after all."

"Stella, Musa's failing. She didn't blow up a lab."

"Not yet," Musa muttered. She had to admit, though, that it was on her mind. Musa stared at the markings on the paper, the diagram that made absolutely no sense to her, and something in her snapped. "Agh!" She slammed the book closed and it slid to the floor. "This is pointless! There's no…emotion!"

"You don't need emotion," Techna commented, not drawing her eyes away from her electronic communicator that she was recalibrating.

Musa shook her head, which to an outsider looked more like a spasm. As a fairy of music, Musa drew her energy from emotion—from connecting with the subject on hand, and achieving a link between her heart and it. She couldn't do anything if she just used her mind—because her mind was always humming with a funky beat, or singing a new song for her. But botany…she didn't understand it. To her it was just a bunch of weeds.

Flora smiled softly, but Musa could see some pain within her jade eyes. Flora was very passionate about what she did, as much as any one of them was, and it hurt her that her friends didn't appreciate her passion.

"It's okay, sweetie. Not everyone gets it right away."

Musa shook her head. "That's not it—I'm never gonna get it! It makes too much _sense_."

Techna wore a mask of utter confusion. "That should make you understand it sooner. If it didn't make sense—"

"Tech," Musa huffed and stood up. She was getting jittery—she needed to play the song that was brewing in her head. "Things that make sense might help _you_, but I can't stand them. If it makes sense, it's not for me. There's no rhythm. I have to have rhythm."

Stella smirked. "That explains you and Riven."

Bloom giggled. "There's _rhythm_ for you." Flora blushed and hid a small smile and Layla rolled her eyes. They could all see it.

"What are you _talking_ about?" Musa demanded. She hadn't seen Riven in weeks (on purpose) and even when she did, there was absolutely _nothing_ resembling rhythm between them. There was hatred and chaos, but rhythm? No. "You know what, I don't want to know." Musa grumbled and slammed the door to her room.

Musa crossed her arms and pouted, sinking onto the floor. Why did everyone always bring up Riven? It's not like he was that great. Sure, he was a skilled fighter and loyal in a fight. So what if he was smart and cunning and figured out motives without a second glance at the scene? So he had a body that any guy would be jealous of and eyes that could make a girl melt in a second…so _what_? He was crude, sarcastic, mean, conniving, spiteful, annoying, hot, intriguing, sexy, infuriating, vindictive, addicting, endearing, cunning, complicated, intoxicating, crass, explosive, insulting, amusing, hot, frustrating…

He just _wasn't_ a good guy, she decided. He was _evil_. She just had to convince everyone else.

Three hours later as Techna walked into their room, she couldn't believe what she was seeing—or _not_ seeing, rather. For the fourth time that week alone, Musa's bed was empty and unused. The window was open, and the purple curtains fluttered against the night-time air.

"Musa," Techna sighed, shaking her head. She couldn't believe the princess—and she didn't want to tell, but one way or another, Griselda had warned them that if Musa was caught sneaking out again…well, the outcome wouldn't be fun for any of them. On the one hand, Musa would be punished; on the other, one of them would have to be responsible. None of the other girls were likely candidates. She roughly yanked her shoulder length pink hair from the hair band and growled. "Damn."

**°·**

Musa smiled and leant back against the tree. With her headphones over her ears, she was completely in her zone. The night air was warming from the past winter and she could smell the dew on the grass. The moon, full and high in the sky, reflected in the still of the lake and gave her the calmest feeling she'd felt all month. Musa sighed.

A low murmur of voices caught her attention, even with the music playing in her ears, and there was a rustle of leaves. Musa knew she should change incase whoever it was proved to be dangerous, but that in itself would alert them to her presence. She sat as still as she could and slipped the headphones from her ears, but did not turn them off. Without the music, she wouldn't be able to concentrate as much, but it needed to be quiet.

"…_already told…can't keep try…just…come back..._" Musa thought she could recognize the voice, but whoever it was (it sounded male) was speaking purposefully quietly, almost as if he knew someone was there—or she was just being paranoid.

A cold chuckle came from the second person and it was apparent that he or she didn't care in the least if someone heard. "_You're fucking** kidding** me, right? You think that just because** you**—"_

_"Shh!" _Musa was furiously curious now.

"_Why? So your precious pixie won't hear you? You're weak! Besides, it's not like—_"

"_Leave._"

The woman's voice became sugarcoated and completely false and Musa feared she'd either throw up or burst into laughter.

"_Don't you…because…you'd never…worthy…could she…someone like you?"_ More leaves stirred on the ground. "_Riven…beneath…accept you?" _So it was _Riven_ who was out here? But why? No one in their right mind would take a walk through the woods at night…

"_Better than…lie…with you…all games." _ Better than lie with you? What the hell? Musa didn't like that she only heard parts of their conversation…not that she _cared_, though. With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and grabbed her shoes from the branch on the tree. She zeroed in on the voices and walked over to the widest tree in the clearing.

How was it that Riven always seemed to know just how to bother her and when?

"You know, it's not nice to whisper." Musa was now only five feet away from the pair, and she finally recognized the second person that Riven was talking to—Darcy. The witch's golden eyes flared. "It's also not nice to interrupt someone when they're trying to be alone on a peaceful night." The small fairy crossed her arms and shook her head.

"You shouldn't be out here," Riven said, scowling.

"And you should?" Musa clenched her fists and looked from Riven to Darcy, her lips pursed. She could manage to control herself, couldn't she? "What's going on, witch?"

Darcy's face grew dark and she smirked. "I'm here to meet my _boyfriend_. And it would appear that you had about the same thing on your mind." Her eyes were lethal, molten gold and Darcy's hand suddenly looked as if it held a vortex within her fist—which it probably did. Musa rolled her eyes, despite how it tugged at her heart—_he went back to her?_

"I was out here to be _alone_. And really Darcy, _boyfriend_? Didn't he dump you…twice?" The fairy laughed at the witches' incredulous face and slipped the headphones back on. She looked at Riven—he hadn't said anything since he'd told her not to be here, and when Darcy said he was her boyfriend, he didn't deny it in the least. In fact, he just stood there, his face a perfect (_so perfect_) mask of indifference, but an undeniable anger hid within his vivid violet eyes. She couldn't believe he was angry with her…_she was there first!_

She couldn't believe it. She was actually having a semi-civil conversation with the queen of darkness. Musa realized this and widened her stance. "You here to fight me?"

Darcy chuckled, dark and mirthless, extinguishing the abyss as if it was only a small flame. She stepped from Riven's side to and only a foot away from Musa, clad in purple, and towered nearly a foot above her. She sneered. "We will fight pixie, but not this time." Musa couldn't believe it.

"Wait…you're not going to fight me?" Musa's face fell. She actually was hoping for a fight…wasn't she?

The witch shook her head in a pitiful gesture. "You think you're worth my time? Ha, that's laughable." Darcy turned to Riven, pulled him down by his shirt, and planted a hard, quick kiss on his lips. She glared at him. "I'm leaving, but we _will_ talk about this later. Got it?"

Musa just gaped at the older girl. "That's it? You're just leaving? No bickering…fighting?"

"You seem to be hung up on the thought of me picking a fight with a pathetic pixie like you. The truth is, you're not worth the time and I have better things to do for now." Darcy scowled at the girl. "But I assure you, one day Princess, I'll fight you and you're not going to live to tell anyone." Darcy rolled her eyes. "Freakin Icy, she's so—" With a flash of violent black, Darcy disappeared.

"Really?" Musa threw her hands in the air and groaned. "God, what is wrong with me? That _bitch_—" Riven rolled his eyes and pulled her by the elbow to the path (it would've been a full blown road if cars ran on the ground). "What the hell are you doing?" Musa yanked her arm from the arrogant specialist. She glared daggers. "Don't _touch_ me! You're dating a slut!"

Riven's jaw tensed. "I don't see why it matters to you. Anyway, I'm taking you back to Alfea."

She froze and locked her knees. He didn't understand the look on her face, and she didn't know the reason behind it either; she looked almost…scared. "I don't want to go. Back, that is."

He looked at her, his face void of any emotion, and then he rolled his eyes. Again, he grabbed her by the elbow, this time pushing her towards his bike. His voice was as angry as ever, yet still managing to come off as bored. "You'll get over it."

°·

"Get off the damn bike, pixie."

Musa sat, arms crossed, glaring her worst at the red haired specialist, and still she refused to move from the seat of the levabike. It wasn't that she wanted to continue this conversation with him; it wasn't that she didn't _want_ to get off, and it certainly wasn't that she enjoyed his company. She hated all three, to be honest—she hated the bike most. Heights off the ground, in general. This really sucked, seeing as she was a fairy, requiring quite a lot of flying on her part. That was the one thing she'd never admit to anyone, though. Not even her friends, and definitely not Riven.

She turned her head to look straight up at him as he stood by the bike, languidly leaning back with his arms crossed and one foot in front of the other. She shook her head. "I'm not going in."

Riven shrugged indifferently. "Fine." He uncrossed his arms and stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans. "I'm sure you won't care when I go in there tomorrow and tell Grizzle-da that you were out wondering around several hours after your curfew was several hours into effect." He took a step backwards and arched an eyebrow. She flinched. "Your choice."

"No one would believe you."

Riven scoffed. "That bitch would take _anyone_'s word if they said you were sneaking out. I mean, this is what? The…seventh time?"

"Sixth. No—" Musa's eyes bulged and she swung her leg over the bike, sending it tumbling to the ground. She 'eeped' and jumped away from the vehicle, nearly tripping over the frayed hem of her jeans. She righted herself and swiped the non-existent dust off her pants, then returned to glaring at him. "How did _you_ know it was the seventh time?"

"Not that it matters, but the only time Helia ever talks too loud is when he's on the phone with that flower-power pixie girlfriend of his."

She was four inches from him, standing on her tiptoes and still barely reaching his shoulder. Her pointer finger jammed into his chest. "We're _fairies_, not _pixies_, smart one. And you'd do well remembering that." Riven swatted her hand away and glared.

"Don't poke me. You'd do well to remember I could turn you in now and who knows when you'd see the sun then."

"Are your threats always this pathetic?" She jabbed him again, her eyes glinting with a challenge, as if nothing he could do affected her.

"Do you want to try me, _pixie_?" She poked him.

"_Fairy_."

"I swear Musa, if you do that again—" _Poke_. He grabbed her hand and twisted it behind her back, holding her securely in front of him. He turned his eyes towards the stars and rolled his eyes. _What the hell is her problem—what's _his_ problem?_ Musa could feel his hot breath against her ear and the moisture from it was making her shiver. Her back was pressed flush up against his chest, and she couldn't breathe.

_Damn him…_

"Listen to me, _pixie_," he hissed. "You're gonna go up to your room _now_ and you're not going to mention _anything_ that happened here today. And when you're safe up in your little bed, then _maybe_ I'll let this slip. _Got it_?"

She took her free arm and slammed her elbow into his gut. He grunted and let her go, leaving her available to stomp on his foot as hard as she could. "Fat chance. I'll do whatever I want whenever I want and you're not going to tell me what that is." She shook her head in disgust as he straightened up, his face blank as if nothing had just happened.

Musa pouted in defeat and looked at the ground. "And _I_ want to go to bed…it has nothing to do with you telling me to. I'm just…tired." Biting her lip and glaring at him one last time, Musa climbed up the ivy to her window (which confused Riven—she was a fairy; why not just fly?) and slipped inside without a sound that he could hear. When the window closed and the curtains were pulled, he sighed.

Riven bent awkwardly at the waist. _Damn, the pixie could hit._

**°·**

Musa pulled the purple curtains closed, blocking out the light of the full moon, and blocking herself from the specialist's _evil_ eyes. She huffed at nothing. Honestly, who did he think he _was_? Showing up like…whatever with his _bitch_ of a _girlfriend_ (a part of him didn't want to believe it) and then _making_ her leave. Then to top it off, _threatening_ her so she'd go inside? It infuriated her.

_What'd it matter to him anyway_? _It's not like they were _friends_ or anything._

She peeked out the window just in time to see the lights from his bike disappearing down the path. Good.

Techna was snoring lightly from her bed and Musa was glad that she hadn't told Stella of her being gone—if she had, the sun fairy would surely be sitting up on her bed waiting impatiently to interrogate her, despite the loss of her beauty sleep. For the first time since she'd started sneaking out, she felt actual admiration for her—felt like she owed her.

Oh well. Maybe she'd try to fix up the computer she _accidentally—_no really, It was an accident—broke last week….

Musa stripped off her shoes and her pants and without bothering at anything else, fell onto her bed and instantly was sound asleep. The wonders of being a music fairy.

* * *

**My first Winx fanfic that i actually published (due to the fact that my other one's complete shit). Um...all i can say is i wanted to write a Musa fanfic that represented how i believe their relationship would be, not the way that it is in a bunch of the fanfics that i've read (no offense...i enjoyed MANY of them) and partially on the tv show. I dunno, i see musa as edgier and a "take no shit from anyone" kinda thing. So, there's the first chapter. Enjoy? **

**Reviews are welcomed.**

**xx Echo.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West**

**Don't steal it. Period. I've got 20 pages of it typed up, and if you try to pass it off as yours....i'll know. (creepy eye)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Winx Club. Thank whatever you believe in for that.**

**Rated T for language. That means if you're not old enough to say 'em, you're not old enough to read 'em.**

**I claim creative liscense in this. I'm writing it to help me get past my writers block for a story i might one day publish, but it turns out i actually like it.**

**Enjoy**

* * *

**Chapter Two.**

Musa hadn't even opened her eyes yet when a harsh light nearly blinded her. She screamed and reached for her pillow, only to find that in her restless sleep it had…flown across the room. Or at least, from squinting that was all she could figure.

"Wake up sleepyhead!" Stella yelled in her high voice. Musa cracked an eye open to look up at the blonde, but shrunk back. She was freaking _too_ close. Honestly, their noses would be touching if she moved forward at all.

"Get outta my face, Stella!" The musical fairy waved her arms in front of her, her palm coming in contact with the freakishly smooth skin of Stella's face. _God, does the girl not have pores_? Stella shrieked.

"Musa!" Her cheek was red from the contact. Musa rolled her half-opened eyes and rolled onto her stomach, covering her ears with her hands as if it would block out the rest of her roommates.

What had she been dreaming about, she wondered? It was all a blank, but apparently it wasn't good. Not only was her pillow across the room, but her blankets were strewn across the floor and quite honestly she felt as if she was in a cold sweat. Her blue hair stuck to her face and neck. But the last time she'd had a reaction like this it'd been because her m—

Stella groaned. "No one—with one or two exceptions, neither of them me—wants to see you in your underwear! God, put some clothes on!" When Musa didn't move, Stella huffed dramatically, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and sat on the fairy's bed. After carefully checking her nails for no potential breakage, Stella smiled brightly and pushed Musa to the ground.

"Oof!" For a second, Musa just lay there on the ground, not wanting to accept her awakening yet. Then the fire was on. "What the hell, Stella!? God, didn't you see I was sleeping? Honestly, don't you know better than to—"

"Where'd you go last night?" Stella sat there examining her nails as a perfect picture of innocence, yet in her eyes sparked something dangerous. She turned her blonde head to glare at her friend straight on, and her hazel eyes narrowed. "And don't you _dare_ think of lying to me, Musa. I've known you since we were old enough to walk and I can see right through you."

Musa looked down at her underwear apprehensively, feeling like she'd rather have this conversation without missing pants. Innocence was easier to claim with pants on. Stella rolled her eyes. The blue-haired girl bit her lip, wishing that she had enough energy to yell at her best friend rather than just…take defeat. But there was something about Stella that didn't allow much in the way of argument when it came down to it. She'd learned that the hard way when they were six—of course, Stella was the one that came back with a mark for it, Musa's was only emotional scars. And a hit to her six-year-old ego.

She looked around the room. Lying was the only way she wouldn't get in trouble, but it was also rather pointless—she hadn't been doing anything wrong. "I was…just…walking."

Stella's eyebrow rose daintily. "Walking?"

"Yeah." Musa poked a book of sheet music with her bare foot. "I couldn't…sleep so I just took a walk around the courtyard. You know," she frowned and shook out her hair with her hand, making the blue mess even messier—Goddamn bed hair. "Clearing my head."

Stella bit her lip and looked at the ceiling, as if she were considering it. "You seem to be _'clearing your head'_ quite often these days." She even used air quotes.

She sat up, offended. "You don't _trust_ me, do you?"

"No, Musa, I trust you with my life." Stella shook her head. "I just don't trust you with yours. And I definitely don't trust you trying to level your head." Stella laughed, which just seemed to bother her friend even more. "Musa, you _never_ do anything with a clear mind. So what's got it so clogged up that you have to purposefully go out and…de—what was that term Techna used? De…oh, right—de bug it?"

At times like these, when Stella was actually being insightful and caring about something other than herself or her hair or her _shnookums_, Musa found herself a mix between paranoid and annoyed. And disturbed—definitely disturbed. Musa didn't mind Stella when she was like this towards other people; hell, it was a break from the ever peppy, constantly cheery façade that she wore daily. However, when Stella was trying to understand _her_, she hated the blonde. In the way of not—you know, where you swear you want to kill someone but you know that you care about them. Yeah, that way.

So she was caught. Musa, if she were walking, would be doing the walk of shame. She either had to make up yet _another_ lie to her best friend, tell her that she was off of campus after hours, or (as a branch off of the last option) tell her about the run-in she'd had with Riven and his bitch concubine—er, _girlfriend_…a term she used loosely. Of course, as an absolute "never" option, she could just explain why she'd been leaving at night…..

Ridiculous.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came from it. Instead, the sound came from her door slamming open. The tall, dark skinned girl ran in, looking frightened. "Look!" Layla yelled, rushing to the window and pulling the curtains open. For a moment, Musa was blinded, and she couldn't see anything except for the blinding white light coming from the window—the kind of light you see on a snowy day. But after blinking, she saw clouds—if that's what you could call them…

Stella shrieked dramatically. The other winx had joined them, save for Techna and Bloom, who no doubt were in another part of the school. Musa (not bothering to put on pants) walked up next to Layla in awe, the others crowding up to the window behind them.

"What is it?" The four stared out the window with expressions varying from shock to concern to fear to confusion. Musa pressed her palm against the cold pane, her fingers curling at the frigid temperature from outside. She could see her breath fogging up the glass. "Is it…" She couldn't finish her sentence.

"Stormy?" Flora said softly, finishing Musa's question. She bit her lip. "I don't think even _she_ can do _this_."

In the silence that settled around them, the storm was left to rage on outside. But they were safe in the school…weren't they?

Tumbling black clouds rolled across the grey sky, looking like poisonous toxin wafting through the air. Every particle of the clouds was charged, electrically or not, none of them could tell. But it was sparking, oozing, seeping, and exploding with bright flashes; shades of violet, shades of green, of blue, of red, of orange and pink. Every colour possibly conceivable was there, glowing and churning into the mess that loomed above them. With each fluctuation, the sky changed it's hue with violent illuminations, each more frightening than the last. And even from where they stood, safe and encased in the magically reinforced building, they could hear the crackling, and they could feel the potential, feel the power, and feel the pressure emanating from it. Rage in its purest form.

Musa found herself craving a taste of being entirely immersed in it.

"Sh-should…should we…tell someone?" Flora stuttered. Musa, brow crinkled with emotional distress, turned to her, and her mouth fell open without saying a word. She stared at the tan green eyed girl and drew a blank—she wanted to be out _in_ it. A rumble of what resembled thunder shook the place, and the sky glowed cerulean.

"I don't think they could miss it, Flo," Musa said. Layla stared into the clouds, and seemed oblivious to her friends.

"It's not water."

"What?" Stella chirped, her sunny façade not fading despite the circumstances. "Not water?"

"Clouds are made of water, Stella," Layla murmured offhandedly. Her eyes flicked back and forth with the charges, trying to take in it all. She swallowed. "I can sense when a storm's coming the same way that Musa can sense when a nutcase is in the building." _Wonderful analogy, Layla_, Musa thought. "Or how she can sense…I don't know…anyone or anything emotionally or sonically charged." She took a deep breath and turned to her friends, running a hand through her thick hair. She nodded to herself, calculating. "I couldn't feel this one, and it's made of nothing I've ever felt before.

"And I can't even sense it now."

So why could Musa?

**°·**

Helia was sitting on his bed, fully dressed and ready for their classes (complete with a well practiced yawn) when Riven crashed through the door.

Normally he'd not be bothered when the red-haired specialist came into their shared room just as the sun was rising, having left when it set. Normally he wouldn't be worried when his roommate looked angry and out of place in the calm atmosphere created by Flora's aroma-therapeutic plants. Normally speaking, he wouldn't be _too_ concerned that Riven sincerely looked like he'd walked across hell and fought well.

Of course _normally_ didn't often apply. Because it wasn't often that Riven came in muttering about _Darcy_. And it wasn't often that he came back soaked to the bone and _glittering_.

However, when Helia commented about the _glittering issue_, the taller boy's reaction of pairing a glare with a finger _was_ normal.

"What happened to you?" Helia asked, as cool and collected as ever. He'd yet to come up with a situation where he felt an emotional need to lash out, so this was no exception. Why would it be?

Helia swore he saw Riven's eye twitch.

Riven's jaw tensed and he clenched his fists, the hard muscle in his arms flexing. He froze on spot and looked anywhere but at his friend, at the carpet, at the ceiling—who knew there was a missing tile?—at the walls. Finally he settled with just wrenching his eyes shut, despite the images that swam through his mind—_Damn that pixie_!

"I don't want to talk about it." He grabbed a towel from the back of a chair and stormed out of the room, muttering to himself of the blue-haired fairy.

_Do you ever_? Helia thought. He sighed and shook his head, ashamed at his friend's aloofness. "Good talk," he called after his friend through the closed door.

**°·**

Musa groaned and shifted in her seat. No matter what she tried, she just couldn't seem to get comfortable, and every effort was in vain. She tried crossing her legs, uncrossing her legs, sitting on her feet, sitting with her feet on the chair in front of her; she tried sitting on her hands, tried crossing them in her lap, behind her back, behind her head, she even tried gripping onto the armrest. But nothing was working.

She didn't understand it—her cycle had ended just a day before and she _never_ got cramps, even when she was on it. But she sat at the assembly, her muscles as stiff as never before. And her blood was burning.

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, letting out a small screech—which brought out a glare from her lecturing superior/head of security and punishment. Techna drew her hand back in surprise.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "I was just going to ask if you're alright."

Musa let out a huff of breath and ran a hand over her face. "Fine. I don't know." She looked up at her roommate. "I'm on edge."

Techna smiled in a fashion that clearly said 'no-duh!' "I can see that." She leant forward due to the glares she was getting and lowered her voice. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The musical princess shook her head, not realizing that her hair (falling just shy of her shoulder blades) was flaying in all directions—she'd forgotten to put it up that day. "Not really. I don't know why."

Techna frowned and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're going to explain why you left last night, then."

"Are you sure about that?"

Disbelief played across Techna's face. "You owe this to me, Musa. I know we may not be as close as we used to be, but I've covered for you _four_ times this week _alone_. How Stella found out is still beyond me. But I at least deserve to know _why_ I'm covering your sorry ass. If it's some kind of midnight rendezvous with Riven, then that—"

"Why do you all think I have a thing for Riven?!" Her voice had carried out much louder than she'd planned. With another harsh look from Griselda and a few intrigued (and jealous) looks from the younger students, Musa slumped back into her seat, her face red. She tilted her head back to look at her friend. "Look, Tech, I'd love to tell you why but the truth is I just don't know."

"That's a boldfaced lie and you know it." She did know it. Techna felt horrible, and her face fell. "If you don't want to tell me then that's fine—but _lying_ to me…I thought you trusted me more than that."

Musa hated so many things in the world, but most of all she hated the power of guilt. She hated how with just a few simple words that in any other arrangement would mean less than dirt she could be brought to her knees or reduced to stuttering and stammering for a way to make it better. She hated how when someone pointed out a mistake, she felt inclined to fix it, even if only to repair her pride. Of course, she hated Riven more, but that was another story…

She sighed and settled herself with crossing her legs on the small theatre-like seat and sitting on her hands (incase she were to lash out on mistake). "Look…Tech…" She tried to comfort her friend, but the truth was that everything going on in her mind was making her less caring about all those it involved. "I'm sorry. I can't explain it…I think it has to do with this storm." She glanced out the high glass ceiling of the assembly room and shuddered at the sight of the ominous clouds. "I don't know why, but for some reason it's affecting me."

Techna wanted to believe her, she _truly_ did. However, the plain fact of the matter was—

"As if," Stella muttered, tossing her golden locks over her shoulder as she tuned into the conversation. "You've been acting like this _way_ before the storm, Musey." She stretched out her leg and examined the strap on her sandal. "Face it; you're just being downright cranky."

Musa looked to the others for help, but it seemed that Flora, Bloom, and Layla (who wasn't even paying attention to their off-topic conversation) had no objections.

"You've been acting off," Bloom contributed, looking very much apologetic. Flora just smiled sadly. "We're staring to worry, honestly."

"Starting?" Musa was reminded why Stella never passed simple etiquette lessons when they were growing up—she just couldn't keep her voice down. "I've been worried since she could walk—I mean, Musa's pretty much a high strung ball of crazy explosives in a paper bag."

"I'm right here, you know," Musa muttered. Who liked being talked about as if they weren't?

"We know that," Stella chirped. "That's why I'm saying this. Let me tell you, if you listened to me more, you wouldn't have this split end problem as frequently and your hair would actually grow. Lather, rinse, repeat just never quite—"

"Stella, we were talking about her sneaking out at night," Techna reminded her with a roll of her teal eyes. Stella stuck out her tongue.

"A rather interesting topic," A voice drawled. The girls jumped (save for Layla, who'd appeared to have dozed off in the _excitement_ of the informative assembly) and their faces went red. Griselda (who seemed to appear out of nowhere behind them) hardened her glare on Musa and she adjusted her glasses on her nose. "In fact, I do believe I demanded to be alerted the next time it happened." Techna was the next victim of the stare, followed by the rest of the girls. "Since this is obviously important enough to _constantly_ interrupt this important assembly, I'm sure you girls won't mind explaining it further. In the head mistress' office as soon as it's concluded. Am I understood?"

Musa groaned.

**°·**

Her fist was aimed for his side, a nerve she knew all too well would definitely impair him, and just in time he dodged out of the way; she huffed. His leg extended, meaning to trip her and she jumped over it, throwing another weak-willed punch towards his head this time. He caught her hand in his and shook his head.

"You're not even trying, are you?"

Musa drew back and straightened up, crossing her arms in a fashion that clearly showed how right he was. He mimicked her, his arms falling to his sides slowly.

"Neither are you." Helia made no move to argue the matter—he _was_ a pacifist, after all. He was only doing this because she'd shown an interest and after some convincing from his girlfriend (and a few tugs at the part of his heart that was always soft for the blue-haired fairy), he'd volunteered to teach her hand-to-hand combat. He knew all the basics of it, the maneuvers, he just didn't _like_ or feel for it. Musa rocked back and forth on her heels. "Just out of curiosity, why did _you_ volunteer?"

He smiled softly. "Musa, you're one of my best friends—and being yourself, I knew that you'd end up needing to learn it sooner or later."

"You're a pacifist. How are you supposed to teach me when you feel nothing but disdain for what you're teaching?" She could literally feel it, feel the dislike of the actions he was performing. She could feel it like she could feel the storm, only not as strong. It was like a blanket smothering her.

"As your older cousin, I honestly don't want you hurt. And if that means putting myself out and doing something I don't like, so be it." Helia flexed his gloved hand, not having anticipated the resounding shock her punch would cause. "Besides, who would you rather teach you?"

Musa shrugged, suddenly fascinated with the tile of the floor in the Red Fountain training room. "I don't know…Brandon? Maybe even Sky… Timmy probably wouldn't be much different, he's better with that disk gun anyway. But either of the prince-clones would be more into a fight than you." She frowned. "No offense."

Helia smiled. "None taken." The long-haired specialist cocked his head to the side and studied his cousin's expression, then smirked—which he didn't often do. Then he laughed. "You know, it's almost funny how the only one you didn't mention was Riven."

She groaned. "Not _you_ too!?" The girl pulled an oversized t-shirt over her training outfit huffily. "Really, what is it with you people mentioning that git?"

He looked very amused. "We've all noticed it. You get more frustrated when we mention him."

"That's because he _pisses me off_!" She seethed, her fists tightening with each word. He thought she hadn't been trying before—well, she was getting close to that not being a problem. "He's arrogant and rude and he's selfish and I swear he never considers how what he does affects—and did you know he's _dating** Darcy**_ again?!" She spun around and slammed her fist into the wall, leaving a fair indent, but not as much damage as the wall did to her. But she hardly noticed. Musa ran her hurt hand through her hair, causing the rest of it that _hadn't_ fallen out during the sparring to come loose of the braid. "Shit, he just…" She turned to Helia, talking to him as if he wasn't even there, yet still acknowledging him. "He betrayed us once before for her…how could he do it again—"

Helia held up a hand to interrupt, his brows crinkled in confusion. "I think—"

"—and _after_ we all _trust_ him!? I mean, we _trusted_ him! And he just…" Her sentence died on her lips and she bit her lip, her jaw straining as she glared at the ceiling.

The boy placed a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped at his touch. Helia's expression remained calm while he looked into her eyes. "Has it occurred to you that it might be bothering _him_ too?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell do you mean?"

His hand remained on her shoulder. "Musa, Riven might not say too much about what goes on with him, but I can tell you that he still feels guilt for betraying you." _You specifically._

Musa scoffed. "Right. And how would you know—like you said, he doesn't say anything personal."

"I'm a light sleeper—you should know that with all the times you snuck out and I caught you when we spent the summer together." Helia sighed. "He's been having nightmares and…" Helia paused—he didn't want to betray his friend's trust, but at the same time he didn't want to leave his cousin without an explanation, especially since she was so hung up on the subject. "He talks sometimes."

She shook her head in a 'who cares' way.

"People can't lie in their sleep, Musa."

Musa was still on edge. She'd been hoping for a fight with Darcy the day before, and she'd been hoping Helia would put up a better faux fight here, but neither had happened, and hitting the wall was the best venting she'd had in a while. She didn't care what he was saying—she only cared about what she saw. And she saw red whenever Riven was mentioned.

Helia felt it physically hurt to refrain from rolling his eyes, completely out of character. His cousin was never rational. And she had a potentially broken hand on his side of the argument (not that anyone was arguing). He took her hand and inspected it, drawing to attention for the first time that she'd wounded it. It was bleeding, the milky white of her bones showing through in gruesome contrast. Musa winced.

"Come on," Helia entangled their fingers in a concerned sibling gesture, "We're gonna go get you ice." She nodded sullenly, biting back the pain. She must have thrown more power into the punch than she'd realized…

Musa sighed. "Helia…I've been sneaking out again."

"I know."

She shook her head. "I need to tell you why…"

* * *

**Chapter 2 down!**

**Yeah, I made Helia and Musa cousins. To me, i just...thought she needed a more structural relationship with some of the guys too, seeing as she's such a tomboy herself. And Helia has dark blue eyes, dark blue hair, writes poetry (which is vaguely like lyrics) and he's a sentimental guy...they're like cousinal soul mates! Yin yang type thing. I don't know how Helia's related to Saladin in the show (can't remember, been many moons since i watched the english version) but here i have Saladin as both Helia's mother's and Musa's mother's brother. Because originally it was going to be her dad's brother, but then helia would have been the rightful heir...or some such stuff. i think. I don't know. They don't have a course on Harmonic Nebula monarchy regulations in average high school. Pity? Nope.**

**I'm working on the third chapter, so with luck it might be up this week. Lucky ducks, ye who're reading this now. I usually don't update.**

**Review!**

**xx Echo.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West aka Echo.**

**Don't steal it. (the only reason i'm puttin this on every chapter is because the only fanfic archives where i've really noticed an issue with plagerism would be Winx Club. it made me mad observing it, so i can't imagine i'd be a happy camper if it was directly at this.) You've been warned.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Winx Club. let's leave it simple today.**

**Pairing: MusaxRiven cos the edge adds flavour.**

**Rated T for language. Oh dear kiddos, Musa says the fuck word! Gasp. -.-**

**(sorry if my sarcasm is offending, it's not meant to push away potential readers. It's just me.)**

**So...those of you still lurking about :) ENJOY!**

* * *

**Chapter Three.**

"—that's messed up, Musa."

"What?! That's not fair; I didn't—" Musa stopped. She looked at Brandon who was looking at her hand (not into her mind) and blushed crimson. Her eyes went wide at the heat from her cheeks and buried her face in her cousin's shoulder. Helia chuckled softly (too soft to hear) and patted her back. When she lifted her face—back to it's pale complexion with only a light rosy tint to her cheeks—she saw that Brandon was smirking openly at her as he poured the anesthetic on her hand (Because in a school without fairies healing or even a acceptable hospital, in room service was the best they could do). She swallowed hard. "You meant my hand, didn't you?"

He smiled. "Yeah. I did." His brown eyes danced in unmasked humour. Sky shook his head and flipped the page of the bike magazine and chuckled. Brandon, much like a big brother, wouldn't pass up the opportunity to tease her for her sudden random embarrassment. "What'd you think I meant?"

Musa's still embarrassed face twisted into something resembling mortification. "Uh…_nothing_?" Musa pulled her shirt over her head and wished she could disappear. Helia whistled, teasing her as she'd just nearly flashed all the boys in the room—she would've if it wasn't for her sparring bra she had on, but it hardly made a difference due to the lack of material.

And Sky hadn't meant to stare. At least, that's what he convinced himself when Timmy wacked the back of his head with the tool he was using to repair a computer chip.

"Ow." The blonde prince rubbed his head, wincing in pain from the metal. Then he looked at Musa with a sort of vague interest. "Whatever it is that you're on that's making you do this little strip tease…do you think maybe every once in a while you could slip it to Bloom?" Timmy hit him again.

Musa laughed and rolled her eyes. "Nope, but I can tell her you said that." He paled. "That's what I thought," Musa winked, and then laughed at the boys. "Man! You guys are so _whipped_!"

Helia muttered something sounding vaguely like 'and you're not?' Musa turned to hit him, but his hand on her shoulder rooted her. Her cousin bent his head closer to her back, and when he drew back, his face was laced with anger. "What the hell happened?"

Musa looked at him blankly, and then completely threw off the shirt. She stumbled to her feet and ran to the mirror that was conveniently in their common room (because they were vain like that) and turned as best she could to see her back. Running from her shoulder blade to her waist were four quarter inch wide gashes, not too deep, but deep enough to make the skin look sickly split. She furrowed her brow, her memory running to remember how they'd gotten there—oh, right.

She didn't want to answer, but the way Helia was looking at her…with concern and expectation, and fear…she couldn't _not_. "I…um…" Musa winced and cocked her head to the side, trying to figure the best way to answer. She bit her lip. "You know how Flo likes to plant those trees outside our windows?" She looked from Sky to Timmy, to Brandon then to Helia. Helia glared, not knowing where she was going, but nodded. Musa stressed a laugh. "Turns out…they don't like being fallen on? They get a little temperamental."

Shaking her head paired with an eye roll, Musa started spinning in a circle. She had nothing better to do, and hopefully the insanity of it would distract her cousin from questioning her further.

Helia stood briskly, his anger getting the better of him for the first time in several years—since she'd broken his mother's favorite picture and blamed him for it as a child, to be precise. Without a second thought, he shot the lasers out of his glove, wrapping up the small pixie. She wobbled around, winding the strings tighter as she tried to regain her balance, until she was within an arms length from her cousin. Musa screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the world to stop spinning. When she opened them, she tried her best to appear completely innocent. But he didn't buy it.

"Was that when you were sneaking out?" He didn't release the glove.

She grinned sheepishly. "They don't like being woken up, and in my defense, climbing up the wall is harder than it appears with flat soled shoes." She kicked the floor with her bare feet.

He nodded, tongue in cheek. Helia opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it in confusion. "Why were you climbing? You're a fairy. Why didn't you at least have someone heal it for you?"

She glared. "I know I'm a fairy! Maybe sometimes fairies don't feel like flying everywhere! And if I asked one of them to heal me, that'd be like admitting that I snuck out and I'd get turned in!" Musa tried to cross her arms, but the yellow lasers (which were cutting into her arms) hurt too much and constrained her arms to her side. "Besides, changing takes up time, energy, and it sends magic waves that security could detect. Plus I'm not exactly quiet."

Brandon laughed. "True that."

She glared her best at the brunette. "What I _mean_ is that I'm a music fairy." Then she smiled cheerily. "I get background music when I transform. Something about the conversion of energies or some shit. Either way, I get a theme song."

Helia still looked mad. "Musa, I really don't give a fuck if you've got your own _theme music_! The point is that you're acting completely—"

The door slammed open, crashing against the wall behind. Riven kicked it shut moodily, his hands in his pocket, hair drenched to the side of his face. He looked up lazily to where Musa and Helia stood, and his first reaction was surprise. And not because Helia was yelling. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"

Helia's eyes went wide and he retracted the laser, turning away from Musa. He swore he was going to be sick. And, looking at his cousin, he could see about the same thing from her. Musa's mouth gaped open in disbelief.

"You're joking, right?" Musa waved her arms around dramatically. "That's sick, Riven!"

"What?" Riven looked at his friends in confusion. They laughed at the scene before them. Riven, angry at being laughed at, glared at the cause—_Musa. Damn pixie._ Only, instead of glaring, it turned to staring—_what was she wearing_? Musa was fuming, her face nearly as red as the scanty shorts that barely covered her, and what resembled a single shoulder-strapped black bra. She was showing _far_ too much skin.

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

Musa looked down. "My…sparring outfit? I always wear this." What was wrong with him?—he looked like he was being bitten by a horned dragon toad.

Helia only then noticed how dense both of his friends were.

"Why?"

"For…sparring. What else?"

Riven couldn't seem to realize that even if he _did_ stare at her as if it would happen, four blue ears would _not_ grow from her forehead and then fly around like butterflies on crack. And they certainly wouldn't be dancing the river dance while singing Greensleeves.

Helia, his compose back where it belonged, took a deep breath to refrain from bursting out in laughter. "Riven, I'm training Musa—_my _**cousin**—to fight in hand to hand combat."

Riven scoffed. "Right. Like a pacifist is going to be any help teaching his cousin to fi—" He stopped short. "Cousin?" Helia and Musa nodded. He looked from one to the other, trying to come up with an insult (for that was the way of the Riven). "I can see the resemblance—you both suck when it comes to fighting. Makes sense you'd end up fighting against each other." _Weak, Riven_.

Musa arched an eyebrow. "That's the best you got?" She laughed coldly as she forced her shoes onto her feet. "Really? I mean, he writes poems, I write songs which are basically poetry sung—in fact, he writes some songs for me to sing. You didn't take a punch at that?"

Shit. _Think, Riven_! That's it… "I don't think about you enough to put that together, pixie."

She thought she could feel panic, feel a lie, in what he said, but the storm itself that still blundered on outside was sending the same waves, and too much more to be sure. Musa rolled her eyes.

A voice came up, blocking out Timmy's stereo—"Attention students." It was one of those pre recorded, mechanical sounding voices with an accent that even the most advanced realm-wide scholar wouldn't be able to place. "Due to severely dangerous weather, all students are required to remain indoors until deemed safe by a legitimate advisor. Any visiting personnel please return to your homes as quickly as possible." It cut off with a crackle.

Musa sighed and walked over to Timmy. "Talk to Tech—whatever snag you two hit, it's not worth losing her, is it?" Timmy shook his head shyly. She gave Brandon and Sky hugs and then went to Helia. Her cousin wrapped his arms around her small frame and rubbed her shoulder.

"Stop sneaking out."

She frowned. "No promises."

"Musa…" Helia bent down to face her at eye level. "Promise me you'll be safe."

She hesitated. Musa didn't like making promises she couldn't keep, least of all to Helia, who was more like a brother than a cousin, but there was no way he'd let her go without her word. She coyly crossed her fingers behind her back (Riven noticed, ready to call her out on it the second they had a moment alone).

"I said no promises, but I'll do my best."

After she'd left the room, Riven turned to Helia. "So, flower boy…

"About that sparring…"

**°·**

Musa held tightly to his waist, not wanting to admit to herself or anyone else that she completely enjoyed the feel of his strong muscles beneath her fingertips, the warmth of his skin, and loving how he tensed whenever she'd move her hands for better grip. She figured it was because of the strange rain that was soaking both of them that she was thinking this way. _His_ reactions were only natural.

Riven, on the other hand, was getting very frustrated. The black clouds didn't let in any light, and being after dusk it was even darker. He had to depend on his busted headlights (broken thanks to a certain _pixie_…) and the frequent ambient flash that blinded him and left him seeing spots. Not only that, but they were being pelted with a mix of rain and whatever had left glitter on him the day before.

Then there was the fact that Musa kept touching him. Seriously, she was rubbing her cold hands up and down his chest, his abs, and it was driving him mad (literally). Her nearly bare thighs were pressed against his legs, her knee nudging its way into his shirt as she clung to him, and every minute or so she shifted closer to him—he tried to believe it was because the shorts weren't climate friendly. To top it off, Musa had pressed her cheek into the crook of his neck and her breath was fanning across his face—_watermelon._ She smelled like watermelon.

Why had he agreed to this again?

Oh, wait—he hadn't.

He'd volunteered.

**°·**

She didn't know how it happened. She didn't know _why_ it happened. Yet somehow, she knew was that her lips were swollen from kissing Riven. The same Riven that was dating Darcy, _Queen of Darkness_.

Of course, kissing was a relative term. Making out, groping, snogging, even nearly shagging would've been closer to what went down against the Alfea gate.

She remembered getting off his bike and turning to thank him, grudgingly, for driving her back in the storm, but before she could get a word out, her back was slammed against the stone and his mouth was clamped down on hers. She didn't know who started it, but it wasn't entirely unwilling on her part if he had. It was a collision of lips, tongues, hands reaching for whatever skin they could find, their limbs entangled. At one point, she'd realized she was lifted entirely up, straddling his waist to try to get a better angle on the specialist. Of course, they had to snap out of it at one point, and in this case it was a clap of the hideous thunder that separated their mouths—and they had never felt more awkward around the other, what with Riven's hand up her measly excuse for a shirt and her arms pulling to try to bring him closer.

After that, she'd jumped down and stared up at him, waiting for something. What he'd said then really stung—_"I've had better_._"_

So, being Musa, she hit him back. _"Well, considering Darcy's a whore, I wouldn't doubt it. Who knows where she's been?"_ Then she stormed away. She didn't care if he didn't make it back in one piece.

So walking into a dorm shared with five other teenaged girls, it was a complete surprise that they didn't find the bright red puffy color of her lips to be the first thing they noticed.

In fact, they didn't show a notice to it at all.

"Where were you?!" Stella yelled at her the moment she stepped in the door, dripping wet in the little clothes she had on. Musa frowned.

"Hello to you too." She started to wring the water out of her hair, but Stella knocked her hand down. She pointed in her face, her finger nearly grazing the shorter girl's nose.

"_Don't_ 'hello' me, Musa!" Stella looked very much like she wanted to smack the girl, but Musa figured it was her friend being dramatic as usual. The blonde's hazel eyes narrowed on her and she hissed, "Where. Were. You?"

The musical fairy didn't realize what the big deal was. "I was visiting Helia."

"You were visiting Helia? Oh, well that's just great!" Stella threw her hands up and stomped her foot. "It's wonderful! While you were off visiting _Helia_, we were here sitting in Ms. Faragonda's office hearing about how _irresponsible_ you—" Stella, along with all the other girls, stopped and stared at Musa, scanning her appearance head to toe, mouth open. "Did you say _Helia_?"

"Um…yeah." Musa shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

Stella gasped melodramatically, throwing a hand over her forehead. "Tell me this isn't true!"

Bloom rolled her eyes and patted Flora on the shoulder. Flora sat on the couch next to the redhead, stiff as a board. She was smiling softly, as Flora often does, but it was forced. Her eyebrows were downturned in pain. Bloom shook her head and glared at Musa. "How could you do this to Flora?"

Musa was confused. She stared blankly from one friend to another—a forlorn Flora, glaring Bloom, over dramatically faking to faint Stella, then on the other side of the room, Techna was turned in her desk chair to watch them, her face blank. Layla frowned openly, lying on the carpet. They were all mad at her? Then it dawned on her—they had nearly the same expression that Riven had had earlier, and the other boys wore before they'd known…

Musa bit her lip, grinning out of annoyance. She ran a hand through her wet hair, causing it to fall in front of her face. "You're fucking kidding me, right? This again?"

Flora shook her head, watching her hands as they lay quivering nervously in her lap. "It's okay, Musa," she said quietly. "You don't have to explain."

Musa nodded—this was getting insane. It was like none of them trusted each other, they way they were jumping to conclusions. "Yes, yes I do." She rushed over to her friend and sat down close to her on the couch and took her hands into her own. Musa stared hard and sighed. "Flora, you're my best friend." Layla snorted. Musa rolled her eyes. "You're one of my best friends and I would _never_ do that to you."

"It doesn't look that way," Layla jibed. The princess never looked away from her book, but Musa could tell she was paying more attention to the misunderstanding going on than to her reading.

"How would you know," Musa seethed back. "You're not even looking at me."

Layla lazily rolled onto her back and put her arm behind her head. She raised an eyebrow at Musa, looked over her soaked, half naked appearance, and said, "Still looks the same."

She didn't want to fight, not with her friends at least. But fate has a funny way with that. "What do you want me to say, Layla? I'm trying to explain to _Flora_ why I went to visit my—"

"I'm sure Flora has more than a good idea of why you went to visit him, Musa."

Musa was sure that she wasn't going to have any teeth by the time this was over. She glared and shook her head, turning back to Flora. "I swear to you, even if it _wasn't_ Helia, I'd never do that to you. Don't you people _talk_ to your boyfriends? Helia's my—"

"Boyfriend. We know." Layla wasn't being helpful. PMS does that to a girl.

"COUSIN! Helia is my cousin!" She dropped Flora's hands as if burned. Musa stood, her arms hanging tensely by her side. She looked to Layla, to Bloom, to Techna, to Flora, and shook her head. "I can't believe that's what you think of me."

She wasn't going to stay in there.

She needed a shower anyways.

**°·**

Darcy couldn't stop pacing. After all they'd been through; it seemed that this might be it. Icy had finally sunk below the surface, Stormy was…well, she had other views in mind. And Darcy…

Darcy was in a rut.

Her boyfriend was _obviously_ in love with that damn pixie. That wasn't the worst part, though. She honestly didn't care for his romantic whims; she didn't care if he was seeing someone behind her back. She didn't care about _him_, to be completely honest.

She did, however, care that he _wasn't_ seeing her behind her back. He _wasn't_ romantic towards the red-clad brat. He _refused_ to acknowledge that he was attracted to the princess. And yet, it was _her_ that he loved. Not Darcy.

She'd done everything for him. She'd kept him away from the army of decay, no matter how her leader told her not to. She'd held him when he, being the weak no one that he was, sunk into a depression. She'd been the only one he turned to when his friends had shunned him, for however long that lasted. She didn't hurt him when they were looking for the codex. She didn't hurt him in the resort realm—much. She wanted to, though. Each and every time it caused her physical pain to keep from showing her distaste for the specialist's instincts.

She'd thought she could change him.

In the end, he changed her. He changed _them_. And soiled her pride in the whilst.

Icy accused her of betraying them—Icy accused her of that a _lot_. It'd taken no more than a month for the white witch to begin her unending spiral into complete insanity. Now, that's not to say that Darcy herself was sane, but Icy…was…

Darcy looked at the older girl. Icy sat in the corner, her pale eyes wide and bright as the moon, and she muttered unintelligible words to no one. Her eyes darted back and forth, falling on specific empty spots in the room, and she rocked back and forth, her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Her claw-like fingernails had been broken multiple times, and though they were not long or sharpened to perfection, Darcy had learned that they cut even better than before. Her hands gripped her freshly cut hair as tightly as she could with shaking hands.

Darcy walked over to the whimpering girl. She hated her now, but a part of her couldn't let go of the fierce leader she'd known. She picked up the white tendrils that lay on the floor and tied it around the girl's wrist. Sighing, Darcy gripped her face and searched her eyes for a sign, for a shadow, a whisper of her body's previous occupant and found nothing.

"Why did you cut all your pretty hair?" Darcy stroked her sister's shoulder-length hair, smoothing it away from the girl's fierce face. Even as confused and lost as Icy was now, she still had a permanent expression that struck terror into many. It just stayed so long that forever would it remain. But there was nothing genuine behind Darcy's concern. She was selfish, vain, dangerous, and didn't care one way or another about her sister's appearance. Her sister was weak now. She let her search for power end her.

And she would _not_ let the same thing happen to her.

* * *

**Well...dere it is. Chapter 3. This might be my last update for a long while (i know i said that last time...and the time before) but i've hit a serious writers snag.**

**Really people, try to imagine Icy with short hair. I like it _way_ better. And as for what the chapter says about Stormy...well....that will be revealed!**

**Please Review. The two i have are lonely :( (Thanks to those two of you who reviewed!)**

**xx Echo.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West aka Echo**

**Do not steal. If you start now, one day the guilt will surely kill you if the law suits don't....i'm helping you shape your future!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Winx Club. Though...I'd pay good money for my own Riven ;) his cockiness is effin hot.**

**Rated T for language.**

**This chapter kinda sucks...i lost whatever was feuling me on (i know what that was, i just won't say xD) Like i've been thinking all day: the first was a breeze, the second was ease, the third was a squeeze, but the forth made 'em all melt like cheese xD.....i'm so lame!)**

**I want to thank magnoia for their review--honestly, something other than "this is good. update soon" was very refreshing! Now, not to discredit the other reviews, i just really enjoyed the original input. So thank you, and thank you to everyone else who updated. And thanks to Inky for readin it and convincing me to finally put this shit up on ff!**

**So, without further Ado...(anyone else wondering if ado is even a word?)**

**ENJOY! *creepy mind control!***

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Four.**

Flora had wanted to talk to Musa the moment she'd been able to breathe again. She should have known that Musa would never hurt her in that way; and she would admit that if Musa had accused her of the same thing, she'd be just as hurt if not even more so than Musa had been.

Stella hadn't allowed it. Out of all the girls, Stella had known her longest, and best. She'd told Flora not to worry, to get some sleep, and that it'd all blow over in the morning. Flora hadn't quite believed her, and she'd lost hours of sleep over it. And she hadn't even been the meanest about it. Layla, however, felt nothing. She felt the specialists were good for nothing more than causing trouble anyway, and this hadn't proved her theory wrong.

But Musa didn't want to talk. She felt embarrassed that she'd never told her friends about her relationship with the artist. She felt ashamed about whatever had happened with Riven. She felt guilty for her thoughts; she felt too much…she felt the weight of the storm pressing on her.

And she felt her throat was raw. Completely raw. For her, having no voice was one of the five most torturous things in the world.

Flora knocked on her door. She knew it was Flora, because the flower fairy was the only one with the concept of personal space sufficiently grasped well enough to understand that one _should_.

She didn't open her eyes as her friend walked closer, then sat on her bed. She didn't even open her eyes when Flora placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Musa…" the girl spoke timidly, as if fearing an outburst. "I'm really sorry. I…I didn't know what to think." She sighed. "You came back wearing almost nothing looking like you'd…well…" It didn't take an empath to realize that Flora was blushing, or that she was embarrassed, but being one didn't hurt.

"Flo," Musa croaked. She rolled her unopened eyes and sat up. Finally looking at the girl, Musa shook her head and pulled her friend into a hug.

**·**

The simulation was failing. It flickered from the Underealm into the frozen tundra of Sparx, then back to the actual empty room that was reality. At one point, the room flashed to the Downland, and Stella nearly ruptured an artery in her forehead.

Of course, with a different monster charging at them from every different angle with each fluctuation, the girls were wearing down their magic. One minute they were throwing weak power spheres at a Puncture Beetle, then _attempting_ to converge to bring down a shape shifter (attempting was the word because there was no unity in their hearts this day), then they were having to dodge the sting of an Ice Crab's shell. It was pushing too hard on their tolerance.

"This is insane!" Musa yelled, descending so she could stand on solid ground. She threw up a sound blast at the flying bat-squid things (really…ew!) knocking them back. The walls flickered, and all the girls sucked in a breath. Musa saw Palladium arguing with Professor Avalon in the observatory, and searching madly for a button or lever. **Three, two, one…**

Bloom groaned. "You've _got_ to be kidding me!"

Dozens of Minotaurs left and right surrounded them, their four arms flying to hit the fairies. If they weren't as tall as they were, Musa would've been their only victim. As it was, though, she was only the _easiest_ victim. A huge fist met with crippling force on her bare stomach and Musa was blown back with the force, slamming against the back of one of the Minotaurs. The giant beast kicked and reared and she received the hoof on the side of her head. Musa winced, and once again was forced back, hitting against one of the bent out of shape trees. The room changed.

"Fuck!" Stella threw blasts at the ice crabs running head on for the music fairy. "What is going on!?"

Musa sluggishly forced her arms to move, the power of fear making it easier than she'd anticipated. In the power simulation rooms, the monsters were only slightly less dangerous than their originals, meaning that if she touched the ice crab, the chance of her dying was only a slight less—if I didn't kill her, she'd either be paralyzed or go into a coma. And neither of those appealed to her in the least.

Musa's legs hurt like a mother to walk on. But running would have to work. She weaved in and out of the trees, the monsters in hot (well…cold) pursuit. She tried flying, but her left wing was completely torn. Who knew being a fairy in a simulation could hurt this much?

Suddenly, a hand reached down and hoisted her into the air. Layla's hand was squeezing tightly to her bruised forearm, and Musa was biting back an agonized hiss. The water fairy looked completely pissed off at her, but everything hurt too much for that to matter.

"Why did you land?!" Layla screamed. Everyone knew that as a fairy, it was safer to constantly fly. If you were in the air, shots could be dodged easier and there was no cornering in an outdoor space. But on the ground, you could be trampled, cornered, or bashed around with an uncontrollable ease. Plus, they had annoying, flashy, too-high heels that were a bitch to walk in.

Musa didn't answer. A strike of lightning crashed down in front of them. Bloom screamed; the storm was inside.

Stella tried to use her staff, casting the sun into the black mass. Layla tried to absorb the water. Flora cast around tall tendrils of her vines to control the lighting. Bloom even had the thought to evaporate it. Musa just stared.

Voices screamed in her mind, in anger, in agony, in torture. Voices she didn't know, voices she never would. It was like the storm was whispering to her…

"Girls!"

None of them had realized their eyes were closed, so when they opened them, to their relief, they were back on the cold ground of the school. Flora, who had been strangled by her own vines, coughed roughly while holding her sides in pain. Techna was the only one with the sense to completely change back into their normal clothes.

Musa could barely move. The searing from her wing shot right to her bones, feeling like someone was breaking them bit by bit. The fall had reopened her wound on her back, and she could feel the bruises sprouting all over. She couldn't change.

Stella crawled slowly over to her best friend where she lay. Stella did not see the blood on her back, and if she had, she would've chosen a different approach—she convinced herself of that. The blonde reached out timidly and touched Musa's bruised arm. "Musa?"

Musa was stubborn.

She rolled onto her back, a motion that left her aching to hold back the agonizing twitch. Musa placed a hand to her ribcage, where the four armed bull-beast had smashed into her, and pressed down. Nothing _felt_ broken. Hopefully just cracked, judging by the way it moved at her touch. Musa bit her tongue and forced herself to her feet. She heard Bloom gasp.

"Musa," Techna said hastily, "we need to take you to the infirmary immediately!"

She kicked off her leather platform boots as best she could without moving sharply. Everywhere hurt. But she wouldn't go against herself—and she was screaming to leave.

"No." Musa gasped at the air that burned her lungs. "I've never gone before and I'm not going to start now."

The platform was too high up—she'd have to be able to fly. Even with a broken wing, she'd manage though.

Faces were a blur as she pushed past teachers, past students that had come to watch. But she kept running and she didn't stop until she was out in the pouring rain, to where she could no longer see the school through the trees

Musa's injured legs gave out and she fell to the ground, holding tightly to her sides that she swore would rip her open from the inside. Musa couldn't hold back the tears that streamed down her face to mix with the storm's fury.

She screamed.

**·**

Darcy hadn't moved, and the sun still hadn't shown. The clouds still loomed above, and she was still waiting anxiously in front of it as she bit down on her knuckles. Downtown Magix was quiet, as it had been since the storm began, with exception of the roaring winds that crashed against the pane.

The apartment above the _Hunter's Tavern_ was dusty, disgusting, and run down, but it was where they'd have the least chance of being turned in. The only people who would see them either were running from something of equal status themselves, or they were too drunk to care—and that's what she loved. She could venture down to the pub whenever she liked, and no one would care one way or another if the witch came down for a good snog every now and—now. In short, she was down there quite often.

Icy hadn't been watching her, yet Darcy still felt the sting of eyes on her back. Crossing her arms, the dark witch turned to look at her sister, feeling a rush of sickness overwhelm her.

Icy was dragging her finger nails down the side of her flawless face, her right hand digging into her knee, and she stared blankly out the window, her mouth open in an 'o' of what appeared to be surprise. Her jaw was moving, her mind trying to will her words to her mouth. "Storm."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Yes, there's a storm outside." She hated this _so_ much that words couldn't even express. It was like Icy was a child again, only more of a toddler because she could barely force herself to speak. And unfortunately, since it was Darcy's fault she pulled her away from that _wretched_ asylum, Icy was Darcy's responsibility. But she'd gotten worse since she'd helped her escape. Icy had retreated more into herself, and now she was just a mumbling nutcase.

Unless she was going into a rage—that, Darcy had learned only recently, was the only time when the real Icy showed through the mess she was now. The only bad part to her rages was how she spoke—sure, she was ruthless, but she spoke in riddles, of things that no one understood.

Darcy hated her.

Icy shook her head, her eyebrows drawing close in her concentration—"Storm…" She pulled at her hair, mimicking their younger sister's crazed locks. "Storm."

Stormy. Darcy groaned. _Of course_ she'd be asking for Stormy. Whenever there was a storm, Icy and she would go out and make it worse, with or without her. It was tradition at Cloud Tower. But Stormy wasn't there. Stormy wasn't _welcome_. "She's not coming back."

Icy's claws returned to pulling at her hair, the skin beneath already irritated to a crimson spread.

Darcy, feeling an urge to do the same, sent a dark orb at the wall in a scream of rage. _Goddamnit!_

**·**

Musa was a quivering, shivering, bloody mess lying in the middle of the path when he got to her. She was passed out, thankfully, which made her much more mobile. That and it made her more agreeable as she wasn't kicking and screaming while she was being picked up and toted around in _some guy's_ arms. He didn't see any damage that would hurt her further in the commute, and that was a relief.

As an afterthought, he realized how sick it was to be relieved that she was passed out and wounded in the middle of a dirt road.

But she did look miserable, he mused, as she lay on his bed, her legs curled against her, sopping wet in her measly fairy outfit. He wanted to reach out to help her, but he couldn't see a spot on her that would be safe for his calloused hands. She was bruised everywhere, her wrings torn, and her reopened wounds (and fresh ones, by the look of the purple encasement) just barely drying enough to scab over. At one moment, he'd considered draping a blanket over her, but something on her face and the fragility of her wings caused him not to.

"God, I swear if Flora hadn't called and warned us about this, I'd…" Helia ran a hand through his loose hair. He honestly didn't know what he'd do. "How could she be this irresponsible? She _needs_ medical attention!"

Riven snorted. "Pixie doesn't exactly have the 'common sense' that the rest of the _Jinx Club_ seems to have."

"Riven, please!" Helia walked over to the wall, resting his head against the smooth surface. Musa needed a serious reality check—she'd _promised him _that she'd try to be safe. She'd promised, and then she'd run the moment someone said 'here, let's get you better'. Whatever it was that was driving Musa into this rebellion (sneaking out, running away, risking infection, fighting non-stop with her friends, lying…) he needed it to stop. For his sake. For her life.

Timmy had his face close to her wings, close enough that Riven could've sworn his breath was going to fog up the glassy appearance.

"Guys…" The bespectacled specialist's voice seemed higher than before, and his hands shook as he held the scanner up to her tattered wing. "This looks real bad."

Helia spun around, his face distorted with fear. "What do you mean by _'bad'_?"

Timmy's throat constricted and he waved the neon beam over the translucent skin again. Same results. "Her molecular structure's been tore too much in this area. If it doesn't heal, she won't be able to change back. And as it is, she can't fly and the magic that's being used just to keep her from reverting back is using up most of her energy."

"What are you saying, Tim?" Riven asked what he could see Helia wasn't able to. Helia stood like a statue, rooted on the ground. His arms were shaking and his eyebrow was twitching, and it seemed he'd gotten angrier this past week than ever before in his life.

Timmy adjusted his glasses and sat up straight, staring forlornly at Riven. "I'm saying that with the extent of surface damage alone, she doesn't have enough magic in her to focus on healing. If she doesn't heal it, she doesn't change back. And if she doesn't change back, her magic continues to be run up on trying to fix her bruises." Helia waved his hand, gesturing the short boy on. Timmy sighed. "She might not wake up."

_Crash_.

By the time Helia had realized what had happened, parts of the wall were already crumbling to the ground, a deep hole where the fist had connected with it. Helia hissed—"Damn, Riven."

Riven flexed his fingers and shrugged, then leaned leisurely against the wall he'd just disfigured. He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "What?"

Helia shook his head. "You…" He sighed. "What is with you people punching walls? Aren't people…softer or something?"

Riven smirked. "Is that your campaign slogan as a pacifist? _'Punch a person; save a wall'_?" He chuckled darkly. "And here I thought you were trying to promote real-wide peace." He shook his head, still laughing, in shame. Helia was starting to get annoyed by the mockery. "Really, you were better trying to save trees."

Helia glared. "Riven, some times you can be so fucking—"

Riven raised an eyebrow in amusement, his grin widening to Cheshire proportions. "So…_what_?"

Helia didn't know what to say, and he ran a hand over his face. "I don't know. Just…" He sat down next to his cousin and tentatively placed his nimble hand over hers. "How the hell could you be so stupid, Musa? This isn't like you."

Riven snorted, suddenly finding Helia's desk to be incredibly interesting. "It's exactly like her." He knocked his fist against his head and the corner of his mouth lifted. "She's not the _brightest_."

Timmy came to the unconscious girl's defense. "And Darcy completely accounts for your judge of character in women." Riven glared at Timmy, but didn't say anything to differ the statement. He just stared at the wall.

A soft, urgent knock on the door had all three boys at attention. "Guys," Brandon hissed from the other side, "It's us! Let us in."

Riven twisted the handle of the door without moving from his spot, allowing Sky and Brandon to enter. Following behind them, however, was a taller, dark skinned, dark haired guy with a staff clasped in his hand. Riven knew he was tall because he was at least an inch or so above himself, Riven towering over most at six and a half feet tall. Riven didn't like the man already.

"Who's this?" He demanded gruffly, squaring his shoulders to look more intimidating—_not that he _wasn't_ now…_

Brandon pushed the guy towards Musa and huffed. "This is Ofir. He's a wizard and he's gonna heal Musa."

Riven sized up the new addition to their group, taking in the oddly coloured purple garment he wore proudly—_purple_?

He shrugged. Helia moved away from Musa and turned to pacing agitatedly across the room. Riven resumed his 'I don't care' lounge, crossing his arms and staring up at the ceiling. But even he couldn't hide the glances he kept casting at the injured fairy—

_She'd better not get blood on my bed._

**It felt rushed to me.**

**okay, the 1 in [] --these thingies...that was just to say...refer to the end if you still don't know who was doin the thinking in the beginning of this last snipplet thing.**

**I've never completely watched the third season, so i don't know what happens with Nabu/Ofir dude...i just know he went by Ofir at first, his real name's Nabu, he and Layla get engaged, he's a prince and a wizard thing, and he wears a girly shade of purple. But purple stands for royalty so all is forgiven.... :/**

**So, Review and let me know what you think of this chapter. Good or bad...but not too bad. I'm very prideful.**

**xx Echo.**

**oh, before i forget....i know it's weird that i keep making Musa get hurt or whatever, but somehow injuries always tie their way into my stories....at least they _might_ heal this time.... (I have dozens of characters stuck in my mind's limbo with unceasing stab wounds to the heart that may never get their glory of death....)**

**Okay, chapter 4's done!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West aka Echo.**

**Don't steal it. It sucks too much to want to claim as your own anyway.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own winx club. I can't even squeeze out a 7 story shit thing, so how could i write one that lasts for 4 seasons?**

**Pairing: MusaxRiven**

**Rated T for language. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck fuck. shit. there, you're prepared.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

**I don't know _what_ i was on when i wrote this. But it worked out....for the first half. I think this is one of the shortest and most pointless chapters i've written. And it took me all day to write. Writers block and all...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Five.**

Icy refused to move. In this corner, she felt safe. If she was curled up in the corner, she couldn't hear them, she could hear the screams of everyone she'd ever hurt. She couldn't hear their cries, their pleading, she couldn't hear them begging for her to leave them be. Icy could hardly believe the monster that she was, the monster she'd been that she missed being. She couldn't understand why she wanted it back.

Her sister, dark and angry, threw a sparking violent black ball at the wall, then another. The second rebounded off the first, and she caught it in her spiny hands. Icy couldn't understand why her sister was so angry—she'd just wanted to see the young one. She missed her. This long haired, darkly dressed witch that was with her didn't have the same sort of care for her as she had. This one only stayed out of what she believed was her responsibility.

Icy was no one's responsibility. She didn't need anyone. She only needed this small, dark, musky corner. In this corner, she wasn't crazy. After all, Darcy (she remembered the girl's name, she just felt it was a shame to have to say it) was her only company, and it made her more sure that she was the sane one. She wasn't the one hurling energy every which way whenever she said something. She wasn't the one pacing back and forth, waiting for something that probably wouldn't happen.

Darcy hadn't hurt her yet. But soon, Icy could tell she was going to snap.

That's why she refused to move.

Here, no one could hurt her. Nothing could harm her while she was awake. No one could hurt her.

Unless she dreamed.

And she always had the same dream.

**·**

_The familiar path, winding between three inter-connected schools seemed more hollow and eerie than before. The trees swayed in the wind; the trees bent to whisper to one another as she passed. She wasn't liked here—no one was liked here._

_Then they were before her, gathered like an army in her way. They were faceless, with skin stretched over where the bridge of their noses should be, skin stretched over their mouths, and skin tight over the hollowed indent of their eyes. Women, children, men; wives, lovers, brothers, sisters, daughters, fathers, sons…they were all there. They were all mourning. And they were all out for revenge._

_She wanted to look away, she wanted to run, and she wanted them to leave. But she couldn't move, she couldn't turn her head, and she couldn't speak her regrets._

_She didn't know them. She didn't know any of them—if she did, then their non-existent faces escaped her deepest reach of memory. _

_So why were they screaming at her?_

_She couldn't block it out; couldn't block out their wails, couldn't block out their screams, she couldn't block out how they cried. They cried blood, pouring from where their eyes would have been had they any. Their mouths tore, and their screams grew louder. They screamed out of rage, out of fear, and out of pain as their skin ripped grotesquely, and soon they were all choking on their own blood._

_There was so much blood._

_She was drowning—her hands reached for something, anything. But she was sinking into their blood._

_Why were they doing this?_

_A skeletal hand grasped onto her wrist and pulled her up. She tried to scream, but she couldn't find her own voice. The face was the worst of them all—it was _hers_. The face that had chased them for so long. It was the face that she wished she had once again._

_The white witch smiled, blood pooling from her open mouth, dripping from her cold eyes. She chuckled mirthlessly, spurting blood all over her pale face. "Goodnight."_

_And then she fell._

**·**

Musa gasped, and sat straight up. Her skin was sticky with cold sweat, a sweat that was holding her hair too tightly against her neck, and her heart was beating too fast. She could still feel the blood; she could feel herself drowning in the awful, iron taste.

Musa's breath hitched and she reached up to touch her face. She felt her lips, her eyes, her nose…all there, none leaking out her life's blood. Musa sighed in relief. It was just a dream.

It may have just been a dream, but she'd heard those voices before.

Musa didn't want to think about it. Ever.

So then, having cleared her mind of the nightmare, the question of _where she was_ came into call.

It was dark and her eyes hadn't adjusted yet, but she knew this wasn't _her_ room. Or any of the girls' rooms. The bed was uncomfortable and hard and the covers beneath her felt scratchy and worn. There was _no way_ that this was Alfea—they all prided themselves in having comfortable sleeping arrangements, as odd as it sounds. And this wasn't her bed.

Musa's hand fumbled around, hoping to find a light. Instead, however, she managed to knock something over. Something glass—and as common sense dictates, glass shatters. "Shit!"

A shard was lodged into her sliced hand, cut from when she'd punched the training room wall. Musa didn't notice it.

On the other side of the room, someone grunted. She saw the silhouette of someone sitting up against what must have been a well concealed window, and Musa stilled. Her breathe caught in her throat as the figure moved across the room, and she completely stopped breathing when she heard a click.

Musa screamed.

The room was flooded with light. Suddenly a harsh hand was covering her mouth, muffling the earsplitting siren. The person sat on her hips, holding her effectively from trying to move.

"Fuck, Muse!" The voice hissed, "Are you trying to wake _everyone_ up?"

_Oh, **hell**_ _no_… Musa cracked an eye open, finally looking at the slightly _heavy_ person that was straddling her, his hand over her mouth. She growled and slumped back against the pillow, and bit his hand. Riven drew his hand away from her and glared.

"What the fuck, Riven?!" Musa's back was killing her. "Get off of me!"

Riven's hands went on either side of her head and he leant in close to her, so close that his breath fanned across her face and his hair tickled her cheek. Musa bit her lip, and Riven grinned. "Are you going to scream again?"

Musa was going to kill him as soon as he got off.

Musa gritted her teeth. "No."

He nodded thoughtfully as he stared into her dark eyes, and Musa suddenly craved to press her lips against his again. She hated that she was thinking it. She hated everything about him. She hated _herself_.

Riven was going to die.

His skin brushed against hers, they were so close that she could almost feel his eyelashes flutter against her skin. Their lips never touched.

"Riven, molesting my little cousin."

Riven lifted his head to look at his roommate and smirked. "It's not molestation if she likes it." Helia's eyes narrowed.

"She doesn't," Musa snapped, finally gathering her wits. Whatever had happened there that made her completely lose her train of thought and succumb to his…_seduction_, she'd never let it happen again. Musa twisted onto her side and pushed the unbalanced Riven to the ground. The specialist grunted.

Helia laughed. He'd yet to open his eyes, so Riven wondered in passing how he knew that he was on top of Musa…

Musa groaned as she sat up, her spine stretching wrongly against the half-healed wounds on her back. It was only then that she realized she was still in her fighting outfit, and the happenstances of the past day came rushing back to her—the simulation room, her wing, the storm, the voices…running, falling, crying, screaming. The pressure in her head had driven her to that—so _that's _where she recognized the dream-voices from…

But after that, there was nothing. There was a white flash in the sky, and then her mind was consumed with the dream.

Yet somewhere between then and now, she'd either sleep walked on half-broken, bruised legs from Alfea to Red Fountain (which she was almost sure she didn't do) or someone had brought her there. She had her pride—she'd almost prefer if they'd left her to rot or bleed out, whichever the case may have been.

Fate has a fun way of biting you in the ass like that.

"How'd I get here?"

"You flew," was Riven's genius answer. Helia eyed him like he had gone insane.

Musa didn't buy it even for a second. "My wing was shredded. The last thing I remember was s—" Musa stopped, backtracking on her words. "Passing out from…exhaustion?" the last part ended coming out as a question, though she meant to make it seem like she herself believed it.

Helia was staring lethargically at Riven, trying to find the motives behind his lie. He didn't look away, even as he was spinning his own to feed his cousin. "Flora called me and told me you'd run out of training and were injured." That much was true. "Riven found you passed out in the courtyard and brought you here."

It made him physically sick to lie, and yet he still couldn't take Riven's credit for her rescue. Riven shot daggers with his eyes—_if only looks could kill_…

Helia waved it off when Musa tried to respond. "Just go to sleep Musa, we'll talk about it in the morning. And try not to twist your wing—you've got a lot more healing to do." Helia rolled away from her and stared at the wall.

Musa wasn't done. She stood up, pressing her hand against her brow as she teetered from the dizziness in her head. She suddenly wished she had her boots back, as it became painfully obvious of the height difference between her and the moody specialist—close to a foot and a half, she guessed (damn her father for being so short!).

Musa bit her lip. She tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, and then tilted her head to look up at Riven. She didn't like her dim reflection in his eyes. Or his smirk as he switched the electric lights off.

But they were in darkness and they were close. Any closer and Musa's bare skin of her shoulders would brush his chest. _Get out_.

"You should take the bed. It's your bed." Musa made a move to sidestep him, thwarted by his arm wrapping around her waist and spinning her back towards the uncomfortable mattress.

"You're sleeping on it." He didn't emphasize further, just pushed her towards his bed. He turned and walked to the small chair which sat in front of the window and sunk into it. Riven propped his arm against the side of the chair, his chin resting on his fist. Musa thanked every god or goddess that came to mind that it was dark, for if it wasn't, her blush would be completely humiliating. But she couldn't help it—he was _watching her_ with that smug look on his face, that fire in his eyes that said she would cave.

She glared. "You—"

"Just sleep in the bed, Muse."

Musa's fists clenched. "What'd you must call me?"

She could hear the humour in his voice, positively dancing and ready to strike her down. "Muse. I figure it's suitable—you inspire so many people." Riven coughed. "Anyway, just go to sleep."

"It's your—"

"I know. Go to fucking sleep."

Musa shrunk and lay on the bed, her back to stiff and her legs too tense. She didn't want to lie on her wings, but she didn't have the energy to change back. "Riven, why—"

He chuckled. "This way I can say I got you in my bed."

Musa's face paled and the little nails she had dug into her palms. But still, she couldn't resist the opportunity to embarrass him. "Are you saying you want me in your bed?"

His voice came out strained. "No. But I can always say you were all to eager to jump into it."

"I didn't jump!" Musa sat up quickly, her temper flaring. _How dare he_!?

Riven laughed. "I know that. But if it comes from my mouth, within two hours, all of Red Fountain and at least half of Alfea will believe it."

She wanted to scream. "You mother—"

"QUIET!" Helia snapped. "Stop flirting and go to fucking sleep you two!"

**·**

They were fighting again. The young one had come during the night, not long after she'd woken from her dream screaming (blood…so much blood!). Icy hadn't left her corner. But as it was, she cold see the two fighting and hear them arguing tenfold. They'd never gotten along the greatest, but now the dark one hated the young one. Hated her more than the dark one hated Icy.

"—is it _so_ wrong that I might want my _life_, Darcy?!" The young one screamed at her older sister. Her purplish hair had grown out to her waist and she was already suffering from lighter, almost grey streaks. Icy thought that it made her look like some sort of Medusa—that was the woman with the snake hair, wasn't it? Icy could hardly remember. She just knew that when she saw her sister, she thought of snakes writhing and hissing from her scalp.

"You abandoned us! And for what?" Darcy hurled a twisting stream at Stormy. The younger witch was getting angry—her stormy (ironically enough) green eyes flared and her hair started to crackle with lightning as she stood her ground.

"You did the _same_ thing to us countless times! And your precious _puppy dog_ doesn't even _love_ you!"

Darcy shrieked and threw another orb at her sister, hitting her shoulder and knocking the weather witch back. Stormy huffed and threw at her a bolt of lightning. Darcy absorbed it with what reminded her of a black hole.

"And you think this _boy_ loves _you?!_"

"I know he does!"

Darcy, briefly forgetting her powers, threw a creaky chair at the floor in front of Stormy. "Even if he does, _I_ came back!_ I_ never really _left_!"

Stormy sighed and closed her eyes, straightening up her maroon leather vest. She let herself calm down and gathered the discarded cardboard box up in her arms, picking up a few frames and books and clothes that had fallen out. She stood straight and smoothed her hair back, walking as calmly as she could to the door. She twisted the handle and let herself out into the narrow hallway, then turned back to her sister.

"Well…" she sucked in a breath and took a last glance at her fuming sister, then one at her pitifully reduced idol—she wished Icy didn't have to face her alone. Stormy stared her much taller sister in the eye (they were only at eye level due to Stormy's high boots and Darcy wearing none) and squared her small shoulders. "I am."

Darcy screamed and threw a high powered volt at the door, and not a second later there was none. The area steamed with her dark magic and dripped like venom.

Icy held her head and cried.

* * *

**Chapter Five complete! (it's short!!!!!!!!)**

**Okay, so if you haven't noticed by now, i can't write a complete fight between anyone. So this is it...It's almost 2 am and i'm exhausted and i've been drawing all day....so my head's not in this today. I hope to give you a better chapter next. But i've hit taht stone wall of writers block.**

**The dream....ah, i had too much fun with that. A shared dream between an empath and nutcase. In short, they both saw the same thing in the dream. Only, Icy saw it from _her_ eyes, Musa saw it from _hers_.**

**Okay, musaandriven101 said something about Musa not mentioning her fear of heights to the other girls...well, that comes down to pride. She's too prideful to admit that she's afraid of something she does every day. I do the same thing. And about her not telling anyone Helia's her cousin, well...it was just something so natural to them that it never really occured to either of them that it wasn't _obvious_ to everyone.**

**So, Reviews are appreciated, especially on this chapter. I'd love to hear your scoop on what's goin up with my brain...haha, that made no sense...Peace, I'm out!**

**xx Echo.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West aka Echo.**

**Don't steal my pathetically written story.**

**Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, i don't own winx club.....damn that rhyme sucks more and more every time its said, no matter what you put after blue. Point is, i don't own any cartoon or the attention span to make one or that crappy rhyme. Hallelujah.**

**Rated T for language. I think this chapter's not...languaged though.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and helped me get past that name block!**

**To those who thought the dream was disturbing...haha, well imagine writing it when you're terrified of skin...(long awkward silence)....hard to explain. skin and dry towels ripping...**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter Six.**

**_The first wave: Remorse._**

_Matlin shook her head sadly as she looked out on her daughter and nephew fighting in the garden. The two had always been so close…and then nothing. She supposed it was just a part of growing up; growing apart. Since Musa had grown into her wings, she seemed more temperamental than before. It was worrisome._

_She watched as Musa chased Helia around, waving her arms as if telling a story. The boy fled from her, hands covering his ears. Matlin wondered briefly what the young girl could be saying to him that would reduce him to his current behavior. _

At least they're happy_, the singer thought to herself. She hoped that despite the eminent upcoming events they would be able to hold onto their innocence. That they would be able to live like nothing had changed._

_But she knew that was impossible._

_ The four year old girl was suddenly tackled from behind, and in a lapse of judgment, pinned to the ground by her cousin. He laughed at her, tugging at her messy pigtails. The girl's mother smiled sadly._

_"It's beautiful to see, is it not?"_

_Matlin turned to her younger sister and nodded solemnly. "They have no sorrow."_

_Nadine laughed weakly from her bed. "Yes. It's rather refreshing to see. When they are young, the world is so unburdened." She coughed, doubling over with the stress on her body. Matlin drew near, sitting on the edge of her sister's death bed. She reached out to help, but her hands were pushed away, adding extra weight to her heart. She smoothed down her sister's wily black hair and wiped a few strands from her sweat-covered face._

_"Perhaps one day it will be again."_

_Nadine nodded, her eyes drifting shut. "I've no doubt." She sighed, reaching out and resting a clammy, pale palm on her sister's cheek. "But that is not a world I will see."_

_The older fairy bit her lip and turned away from her dying sister. She kept thinking that she could have prevented it—she could have stopped all of this if she'd just been protecting her. Nadine was unfairly into her twenties, she hadn't even seen her twenty-third year yet, and yet she was dying. And Matlin blamed herself. She'd known what the storm would bring—they'd lost a friend to it during their own years in school. But still she allowed her sister to satisfy her craving for it. Just as Henna had._

_And they both faced the same fate._

_To hide her tears, Matlin rose from the bed and returned to her spot in front of the window. Her daughter was sitting on top of Helia's back, most likely making the boy's breathing difficult, and she wore a smug grin, holding something that looked vaguely like Helia's sketchbook. She sighed and chuckled lightly. It was amazing how much the two cousins could accomplish in a minute of unwatched mischief—this was the simplest of their quarrels._

_Looking at the duo, she realized that they hadn't grown apart with age. They'd grown closer with time._

_Nadine smiled weakly, imagining her son and niece's newest achievement. She loved that about them—they were free spirited. At the thought, her blood froze._

_"Lin…" She waited until her sister looked at her, and she looked deep into her eyes—the same shade as her own, and as her son's. "Promise me that you won't let his…father get to…him. Promise me he'll always…be my…boy."_

_Matlin felt guilt; felt remorse for her past. Her sister's husband was not a caring father, and he believed his son was too soft. Since before they'd married, he had never cared for his wife as anything more than a tool to be used once and disposed after the job was done. And it was her fault—she'd broken him by choosing Musa's father over him. In a way, she'd broken them all._

_"I promise."_

**·**

"Would you stop talking already?"

"You first."

"You started it."

"And you're keeping it going."

"You started it."

"You said that already."

Riven had discovered that it was rather hard to glare at someone across the room when there wasn't even a shred of light to be able to differentiate _where_ you were glaring.

"Muse, it's five in the morning. Would you just go to sleep?" He groaned and turned his back to her, as uncomfortable as it was in his chair. He didn't want to look at her, didn't want to breathe her in. She rolled her eyes and started to hum.

"Really, Musa! Some of us have class in a few hours!"

She quieted, but did not sleep.

**·**

It had been hours. Darcy had left to the tavern and come back later with her makeup smeared across her face and her hair sticking up in too many directions. Icy knew very well what her sister had done and if circumstances were normal, she'd surely throw a few insults at the dark witch for her actions. But circumstances were anything but normal, as she'd come to slowly realize since she'd awoken from her dream.

Darcy had changed since then, out of her street clothes and into the black leather dress (if you could call it that) that she'd gotten to replace her previous purple getup. She'd washed her hair (thank the stars—Icy could smell the smoke and every other funky smell that the witch had absorbed from her rendezvous in the bar and it was going to her brain) and reapplied her dark makeup, making her sickly complexion downright revolting. Icy had never noticed before how her sister hid her natural beauty, but now that she could see it, she nearly wished she'd wipe her face clean again.

Of course, she'd never consider it.

Darcy sat on the grimy floor across from her sister and stared at the white haired girl. Icy was staring at her, but her eyes kept flickering back and forth, as if she were reading a book—it was rather unnerving. Darcy briefly considered probing the girl's mind, but seeing as the last time she'd done so since her sister's escape Darcy had been mentally attacked by the same thing keeping Icy's mind at bay, she figured it wasn't worth the ninety-five minutes of insanity.

But Darcy was restless. Her fingernails drummed against the wood flooring, scraping up little dust mites and leaving a hollow _thump_ sound with each repetitive tap. She chewed her painted lips and tapped her foot, hoping that something would relieve her of her boredom. But she was fickle, and each task proved to be fruitless and even more trying than simply sitting in silence.

So in silence they sat, Darcy staring at Icy, Icy staring at Darcy. Neither knew what the other was thinking, nor did they care. With each passing moment, Darcy's hatred for the snow witch was growing, and with each moment where Icy didn't attack something, she found herself getting angrier and angrier with the imposter.

Darcy flicked a small power ball from the tips of her dark fingernails and stood, her leather boots squeaking as she stretched her long legs. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and stared down at her mumbling roommate, hands on hips. She was waiting for Icy to get up and propose her next new plan for world domination, for taking down _Bloom_ _and those idiot fairies and finally retrieving the dragon fire_. She was waiting for something, anything, any whisper.

Ten times a day she was disappointed. This was the fourth today and the sun hadn't even risen yet.

Darcy's booted foot poked at her sister's. Icy shook with a start and looked up at her, her eyes too innocent to belong to the previous captor of whole planets. With her hair in her face instead of pulled up to reveal her alarmingly evident widow's peak, Darcy realized that her feared and respected sister almost looked…normal.

What a shame.

"I'm going out." Darcy looked down at Icy, hoping for a reaction—a _'really? Oh, I've just been dying to get out of here and wreak some havoc on the townspeople of Magix for the longest time. I'll go with you.'_ However, when she got none, she continued to prod at her. "Are you coming?"

Icy shook her head and rested her forehead back against her knees, her eyes closing. There was no way she was leaving her corner.

Darcy huffed and stormed out of the room, her heels clicking against the floor. It didn't matter to her. It didn't.

Icy, once she was sure that the wicked woman was gone, stood from her standing place. She'd been waiting for her to leave, if only so she could have a moment to herself instead of under constant surveillance. And now that she had, Icy could do anything. Her mind may be restrained to the hidden reaches of her subconscious, but her body was free to do exactly what those hidden urges demanded.

And they told her to dance in the rain.

**·**

Helia just wanted to sleep. His thoughts were plagued all night long of a promise he'd made to his aunt that he'd broken, and it had left him an uneasy mess. That and Musa and Riven (denying it to the point) had been up flirting all night, throwing petty jibes at one another and basically dancing around the three words they both feared. Although, he imagined that had they _been_ dancing, the room would have been much quieter than it had been.

So it didn't come as much of a shock when the bony fairy decided that the best way to wake her only cousin was that of nostalgic round of _'Jump on Helia'_, a game he despised then as much as he did now. It didn't help that Musa had to be at _least_ twice as heavy as the last time she'd taken to bruising his sides.

"Wakey wakey my dear cousin!"

She obviously hadn't learnt any volume control over the years, either.

Helia reached his hands to both shield him from her glowing face (or was that the sun—and since when did they have a window?) and hopefully push her off his stomach. Musa slugged his shoulder.

"Don't try to push me off the bed. I'm bruised enough as it is."

_Oh, right_.

Helia slowly let his eyes drift open. Somehow under the cheap lights of the Red Fountain dorms, her bruises were even more prominent than when they were fresh and nearly bleeding. Musa still hadn't shifted down to her street clothes, and he really didn't like the idea that she was wearing _that_ in an all-boys school. Although, the purple and blue hue of her skin _might_ off put her male admirers long enough for him to come up with a threat worthy of their fear despite his well known label as pacifist.

"Musa, why are you still wearing that?" Musa turned so that she was sitting next to him instead of _on_ him and reached back to touch her wing.

"I'm just waiting. Besides…it's not much better than what I was wearing before."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

Musa smirked. "So _that's_ how you stay so calm all the time."

Helia smiled at her and sat up, throwing the covers off his legs. "Selective hearing does wonders."

Riven grunted in his 'sleep' and did his best at rolling his eyes without opening them. "I think selective is beyond her comprehension."

Musa smirked. "Just like you when you say comprehension, right?"

"Children…"

**·**

Stella's fingers drummed against the windowsill. It'd been hours since any of them heard anything from Musa. If she was safe, she would have called her by now. It was how things worked. Their rules were unwritten and unspoken, but they were unbreakable.

She should have called by now.

For all she knew, Musa could be out there, in that (Stella stared out at the storm as it glowed turquoise and she felt sick to her stomach). It was her fault. It had to be. She'd known Musa the longest and she should have recognized the signs. Musa wasn't happy with them. She never liked being the center of attention when she wasn't on stage. Stella should have known that when they put her on the spot, that she'd push away.

None of them were comforting her.

This was possibly the hardest time _of her life_ and none of them were there telling her that Musa would be fine. Didn't they _care_?

Stella glanced back at the others. None of them were moving to her immediate aid. Bloom was reading—really, who reads books anymore? They're practically extinct!—Flora was nursing Musa's dying sunflower, and Techna was chatting away with her little brother about something androids talk about. The only one who wasn't there was Layla—but she was off playing soccer in the empty History of Magic classroom with a group of sophomores she'd rounded up at lunch.

Maybe they'd break the board. That should cut their lessons down by a fair block of time.

Stella sighed. When none of them reacted in the least, she sighed again, only louder and _more_ dramatically, intentionally slumping her shoulders and pouting as she flopped down on the floor. Her golden hair fanned over her face and she had quite a difficult time peeking through it to make sure they were paying attention to her.

They weren't.

A strangled scream escaped her lips and her hands flew daintily into the air. "What is _wrong_ with you people?!"

Finally; a reaction.

Flora looked at her in sincere, innocent confusion, Bloom in…well, boredom, and Techna looked peeved.

"Our friend's out there somewhere"—she pointed madly at the window, turning to express her point, and after fixing a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiling at what she saw, she turned back to chewing out her roommates—"hurt and cold"—she shivered as if acting it out would make them more interested—"and possibly dying"—Stella made her eyes mimic rolling to reveal only the whites—"and none of us are doing anything!" She fell back onto the couch in exhaustion.

Techna shook her head. "What are we supposed to do?—no, Radar, not you—She ran out on us." The hologram of her brother looked like he wanted to run.

Flora nodded. "I'm sure she's alright. If she wasn't, she—"

"She what?" Stella glared at the flower fairy. "If she wasn't okay, she'd have no _way_ to let any of us know."

Bloom just sat in silence.

**·**

Darcy watched the blonde pixie throw her hands up dramatically and for a moment she was actually thankful for the flower pixie's obsession with strange plants. If it weren't for this odd blue-blossoming tree outside their window, she surely would have been seen—

Or not.

The blonde hadn't noticed _anything_. She just turned her head and checked her reflection.

Darcy blanched at the thought that they might have something in common. They were both incredibly vain.

As the pixie pretended (unfortunately) to die, she finally caught part of their conversation.

So the music freak wasn't there.

She just had to find out _where_ she was…

* * *

**Chapter 6 is done!**

**Might take a while to get the next chapter out. I don't know. I've finally got an idea though xD**

**So, review!**

**Sorry for the wait.**

**xx Echo.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West aka Echo.**

**Don't steal. I'm getting attatched to this story.**

**Disclaimer: You should be thankful i don't own the winx club. If i did, Bloom would probably be insulted more often than she is....something about her bothers me. I think it's the fact that she seems to be a publicity seeker. Though... I'd like a Riven :) i just came to the relization that my most recent ex was a lot like Riven...makes me slightly sad when i start to dream about him.**

**Pairing: there might be some MusaxRiven in this chapter...maybe. it's kinda a blur.**

**Rated T for language.**

**Before the chapter, I want to thank Magnolia again for her review, and to that point, explain something. Helia and Stella, as she pointed out, are basically unaffected by the storm (yes, the weird behaviour is because of the storm). Honestly, most of them are less affected than Musa by it. This is because Musa's powers, as i said in the first non-epilogue chapter, has to do with emotion and the storm is undiluted emotion and magic balled into one destructive force. So, like an empath, she picks it up the most. Helia, however, had been exposed to it before (it was what killed his mother) which built up a sort of immune system to it for him and Stella's power (light, sun, moon) practically cancels out the mental strain (dark matter) that the storm sets. Layla is obvoiusly drawn in by the storm, and it makes her irritable. So...that plus the ever hated Time Of Month that puberty brings and you've got a pissy water fairy.**

**Also, i want to say to those of you who said you felt sorry for Stella...well, that's fine and dandy, but it was meant to be a little more comical. Something about her makes me think she'd make a good Tawni (From sonny with a chance, of which i also don't own). Funny but obsessed with pretty xD**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed.**

**Okay, i think that's all i got for now. The chapter's a little scattered, but i haven't actually been connected to my mind.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven.**

**_The second wave: Fear._**

_Helia had just turned seven and his father was already making arrangements for him to train early at Red Fountain, under the ever-present watch of his Uncle Saladin. Most boys of that age would jump at the chance. Most boys would be more than happy to train with the specialists ten years their seniors._

_But most boys did not lose their mother—one of the only people in the world who truly cared for who they were—three weeks before their seventh birthday._

_And most boys of seven weren't revolted by the idea of fighting._

_He was terrified. Of his father, of this new school, of growing up, of burying his mother…_

_"Do we have to?"_

_Matlin straightened the hem of her black dress and sighed. She knelt down to her nephew's level and smoothed down a few unruly hairs that refused to stay back in his short ponytail. He looked so much like Nadine—his fair skin, his dark eyes, his dark hair…everything about him was exactly like his mother; everything but his long and narrow face—that was purely his father._

_One thing they had in common was their fear of the man Helia called father._

_Matlin pulled the boy into an embrace. Both were too broken to even shed a tear._

_"I'm sorry, Helia. We have to."_

_Helia turned his face into the crook of his aunt's neck. "I don't want to."_

_"Neither do I."_

_The wind blew around them, cold and shallow as a last remnant from the storm that took the woman that meant so much to them both. The funeral procession lowered the heavy box holding Nadine's body into the ground._

_Helia held his breathe and turned to catch a last glimpse of the casing his mother would forever be in. His aunt reached down and grasped his hand in her own cold one._

_"Is…" Helia chewed on some of the long blue hair that had fallen free. He couldn't look away even as the workers started to shovel dirt in over the casket. His breathe caught in his throat and his dark blue eyes widened with realization and his hands clenched tightly to whatever he could reach—Matlin's hand in one and the fabric of his pants in the other. "She's not coming back, is she?"_

_Matlin looked down at the frail boy, looking more lost and afraid then ever before. She gently rubbed his shoulder and hugged her nephew tightly to her. The boy sobbed onto her dress and Matlin struggled to remain on her feet through a spasm of slicing pain in her chest. She gasped in pain and in shock. "She's not."_

_And at the time, neither of them knew that in less than a year, Matlin would be buried only a few feet from her sister._

**·**

Musa was incredibly bored. Helia and Riven had left for their classes and she'd been **_ordered_** to stay in the room until they got back. Now, normally she wouldn't follow any orders, much less _theirs_, but as they had some sort of lock that even her _magic_ couldn't unlock, it seemed Musa had no choice in the matter.

Her stomach growled and Musa tried to remember the last time she'd eaten—she'd run out of training shortly after lunch (though outside it was difficult to tell, considering the clouds were so thick everything looked like either night or dusk) and it'd been…well, a fair amount of time had passed since then. And here it was, coming up to noon, and Musa felt her stomach was going to eat itself.

She could always eat Helia's sketchbooks. They were made from some…plant, right?

Musa sighed and rolled onto her stomach. Helia's room was boring, and Riven living there didn't liven it up by much. And Flora's plants were making her antsy.

_What do you do when you're locked up in two boy's bedroom_? Vandalism was out (she couldn't do that to Helia)…but to Riven…

Musa's sly face would have been considered comical to anyone who saw it as she ventured her way past Helia's bed to Riven's side of the room.

It smelt like him, she realized; a strong, undeniably masculine scent that had nothing to do with the overbearing colognes that the prince clones used. It was refreshing, clean, but definitely not the flowery or fruity smell that always lingered in the halls of Alfea. It was more of a natural, hard, edgy scent.

And she _had_ to stop thinking about it. The smell already haunted her long enough.

Musa danced towards the cabinet in the corner of the room, off to the side of Riven's bed. She knew that she should feel guilty for snooping, but it was Riven. He could deal with it. That's what he did best: _deal_.

Musa mentally noted to _never_ play strip poker with him.

The doors were locked and hard to pick, but Musa luckily (for her curiosity) could remember an easy spell. They crashed open, knocking into the wall, and a piece of paper fell to the ground. Musa looked at its origin and drew back—what the _hell_?

There was a picture of Riven and Darcy, looking completely awkward as they leaned towards each other for the obviously forced picture. And neither of them was smiling. Or even grinning. In fact, the witch wasn't the only one who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there.

For some reason, it hurt. It hurt her that he'd be with someone who made him so unhappy…what was so wrong with _her_? (Not that she liked him or anything) Sure they fought, but still…Darcy?

And since when did he keep pictures of them? Having a picture of that witch—much less one taken with _him_—made her a real _girlfriend_ and not just some random fuck. It made their _relationship_ (if you could call it that) an actual, solid relationship!

How could he?!

Shaking her head, Musa examined the closet. If she was going to snoop, she was going to do it right. Surprisingly, she found that Riven kept his possessions incredibly neatly kept—then she tossed it up to his lack of presence there. If he could, the boy would live on his bike.

If Stella could see this, she'd say that Riven was a very dull person (because Stella judged a person by the contents of their closet…(or closets, depending on the person). It was mostly empty save for several pairs of ripped or worn jeans, a few dark t-shirts, a hoodie, and his school uniform; nothing incredibly personal or personality compliant. To Stella, not only would she dramatically claim that having such a collection should be considered a _crime_, but she'd also say he was in desperate need of a fashion update. Musa, however, saw that it meant he dressed for comfort, not style, and was prepared to take the worst. (An almost sad realization when it came down to it.) She also thought they made him look good.

Huh…Stella would be worried around now. Musa figured she should call her…then again, Stella tended to make things out to be worse than they were, especially when Musa checked in. According to Flora, the first time Musa had snuck out at night, Stella had been completely suave and cool about the whole ordeal and in all seemed bored when one of them brought up the subject…until Musa came back. As soon as Musa stepped through the door, Stella blew up in her face, ranting and raving about how _worried_ she was and how she was scared to death, in tears the whole night, afraid that she'd never come back—that she was out there somewhere, cold (Stella had shivered for effect) and alone without anyone to help her.

Psh. Stella used that line _every_ time she went somewhere on her own. In fact, the night that they all fought because of her spending time with Helia, Musa could literally feel the speech coming out before the spontaneous change of topic. Musa had always thought Stella could be a world class actress if she toned it down a bit.

Disappointed at the lack of anything too intriguing, Musa sighed and bent down to pick up the paper that had fallen earlier. She didn't get a good look at it before, but she remembered it being a blur of red and blue.

However, her disappointment would prevail. Musa heard footsteps just outside the door and she panicked, thinking it might be Riven—or, hell, anyone! (She wasn't supposed to be there, after all, much less spend the night.) She threw the paper into the closet and scampered to right a few fallen items, insuring that they would allow the doors to close, and then shoved the doors together. Again, the doors proved trouble (something must have been wrong with the hinges) and again it took some magic on her part to close them. But when she did, she felt accomplished.

Until the door opened.

**·**

Icy smiled to herself as the rain pattered against her skin and matted her hair flat against her head. She smiled wistfully as she watched the colours spark at one another, like a symphony of little snakes of brightly coloured energy, hissing and rearing their heads at one another, trying to gain dominance of the cloud they shared. She spun in a little circle as she stared up at the sky and sighed. She didn't remember the last time she'd seen the sun—it was even more beautiful than she remembered.

The birds chirped in the trees and butterflies danced in the air, pirouetting and looping with one another around her. Not one of them cared one bit about the clouds above because in her world, the clouds weren't there.

But she liked the clouds. The clouds were loyal, never changing their sides. Not like Darcy had been. Darcy had abandoned her—had abandoned _them_—for that damn boy. And now she was abandoning her because of the damn creature invading her mind—the same creature that was making her dance with the butterflies now.

The butterflies could wait. Icy finally had her mind to herself. She could finally see the world for how it was, and as she saw it, it had drowned since she left. Stormy was in _love_? How the hell could that have happened? And with one of the hero-boy robots?

Icy knew the world had definitely gone mad.

But madness was beautiful. Icy hummed a little, a cheerful tune that she'd heard as a child, and danced over to the little children all playing together. They were all dancing too, in a circle, their hands joined as they sang along with one another. The butterflies that fell from the sky didn't seem to bother them. So Icy joined them. She'd never felt happier than she did in that moment, surrounded by the sweet little children of her past.

Icy stopped suddenly, her knees locking in place. The momentum from her spin hurled her to the ground and the heels of her hands sunk into the wet earth to keep her from falling on her face. _No_, she would _not_ be tortured by _children_. Especially not the children that _she'd_ tortured. Especially not children that weren't there. Icy laughed bitterly at the dark sky. The sun couldn't block out the blood that was on her hands. It couldn't block out all the lives she'd taken. The sun was powerless, especially when it was covered by clouds.

She smiled, falling to the ground on her side as she stared up at the wonderfully blue sky _But the sun was so…_

_Useless!_

_No, pretty!_ The sun brought joy to the little children, to their mothers and fathers, to her!

Icy hated the sun. She growled and threw up her magic at the spot the sun had stained in her eye, not thinking that the ice would just fall back on her. Icy threw her arms over her face to shield it from the crystallized needles.

Why did the butterflies hurt her? She just wanted to dance with them. Like they did in the sky, like the small snakes had before them. She just wanted to join and they bit her. Why were the butterflies biting her?

Icy hated herself. She'd never cried before this! She'd never cried before those _dimwits_ had come and taken her away and locked her up in that _cage_ that they called a mental institution. It was more of a penitentiary, locking her more and more inside each day. They should have known she'd break out. _Icy_ always breaks out.

But who was Icy? She was just her—a sad, broken little girl without her sisters. She missed her sisters—especially the one in pink. She always listened to her. The dark one was scaring her.

Icy laughed. Darcy? Scare _her_? As if.

The rain pounded onto her back.

Icy held her head in her hands and fell to the ground. It hurt _so_ much…

Why did the butterflies hurt her so?

She couldn't breathe.

**·**

Musa shrieked.

"Relax! It's just me." Brandon laughed at her as he squeezed his way through the door that Musa was currently trying to barricade by sitting in front of. He held down a hand to help the fairy to her feet and shook his head at her random jumpiness. Sure, the storm had them all on edge (considering they were advised that it was _eeeeeevvvvvil_—Brandon enjoyed dragging out the word—and to stay away from it) but Musa was usually one that hid her emotions well.

Brandon handed her a fair sized tray loaded up with breakfast foods—everything from sugared fruits to scrambled eggs to chocolate chip waffles with glaze. Sugar on a plate with a sprinkling of a stomach ache.

She stared at it, a line of drool practically dripping from the side of her mouth. "Your school has good food." She swallowed a lump in her throat and smiled up at the tall brunette. "I might have to transfer here."

Brandon laughed at her. "No, it's not the school. Riven's secretly a chef"—Brandon nearly hit his head against the wall immediately after he said it—"and now if he finds out I told you, I'm going to be deader than that plant Flora gave me for my birthday." He smacked his forehead for real that time. "You didn't hear that."

Musa shrugged. "I killed mine too." She looked down at the plate awkwardly and then at Brandon. It'd just be _weird_ consuming the food in front of him—especially when she was this hungry.

She poked at the pancake—"You said _Riven_ made this?"

Brandon nodded, looking up in surprise from the screen of his cell phone. Stella was absent-mindedly freaking out about too many things for him to keep up with—what clothes to wear, her hair was too messy, her makeup wasn't the right shade, she couldn't find her shoes, Musa could be dead, the lack of sun was making her sick, Bloom was being annoying, Techna spilled coffee all over her favourite shirt…

He wondered how Musa could ever keep up with her and if it had to do with the male/female genetics. He couldn't understand how anyone without…er…_assets_ could understand what she was talking about. Though…Musa never seemed to either.

Musa sniffed the food and looked around the room shiftily. "Did he poison it?"

Brandon laughed in relief. _Riven? _Poison_ **Musa**_? The concept was laughable. "He wouldn't poison you." Brandon glanced down at his latest text—Stella texted uncommonly fast. "Of course, it looks like Stella might be considering it if the moment you show up there."

Musa shrugged and put the tray down on Riven's bed. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, raising gooseflesh. Brandon looked at her a moment, then walked over to Riven's closet that Musa had only previously deserted in a less than organized state. He kicked the bottom corner and despite the locking charm she'd put on it, the doors popped open with an ease that made her queasy. He didn't seem to see anything wrong with the disarray. That was good. Musa let go of a breath she didn't know she was keeping.

Brandon stuck his head inside and his phone chimed. He came back out with a deep red hoodie and tossed it at her, not bothering to close the doors.

Musa stared down at the jacket apprehensively. "Won't he get mad?"

Brandon nodded eagerly. "Yeah, he will."

Musa thought about it a moment, then smirked. A chance to piss off Riven…definitely worth it! She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, completely forgetting her wings, then winced. Maybe later.

Brandon winced and tossed her his phone. "I've gotta go to class but call Sky or Helia if you need anything." As he headed out the door, Brandon paused just before he closed it. "Oh, and Musa?"

"Yeah?"

"Call Stell." Musa stared stupidly at the phone.

"Can't you do it?" She really didn't want to be yelled at right now…

"No." Brandon slammed the door behind him, shutting out her contact with the rest of the world.

Except Stella.

**·**

Stella had decided not to go to transmutations class. Not just because she didn't _want_ to, but because she had convinced herself that she was ailed. She couldn't bear the thought that she'd have to sit through an hour and a half of Wizgiz without Musa by her side to make snarky comments. The thought that Musa could be out there somewhere, cold and alone, with no way to get home or let her know if she was okay…

For some reason, Stella had a random flash of a broken record. Odd…

The blonde fairy flopped back onto her bed, reveling in the soft feel of her blankets. She hadn't noticed before how tired she really was—her friends' constant fighting was really starting to wear down on her.

She didn't have to go to class. Why not sleep? It's not like she had anything better to do since Brandon had surrendered his phone to Timmy's addiction of trying to improve the technology.

Stella was just starting to doze off to nightmares of that wretched _Amentia_ when her phone started to sing.

"_Shnookums!_" Stella shrieked and scrambled for the phone, immediately pressing the accept button. "Shnookums! I missed you _sooo _ much you don't even know!"

A swift high pitched laugh eminated from the speaker, then the voice spoke in an obviously fake deep tone. "I missed you too, cupcake."

Stella hung up. _The audacity_…

The phone rang again.

"Stella, don't hang up. Please." Musa's voice came out quiet and unsure.

"Why shouldn't I?" Stella held her hand up in the air, to study her fingernails, as she often did while talking with Musa. It was her way of disguising the fact that Musa was one of the three people in the world that she cared for more than herself.

Shit! The paint was chipping. Time for that subdued sea-foam green.

"I'm sorry."

Stella snorted, and then blushed. She hated when she did that. "Well, with a good reason. You ran out on us! I didn't know if you were out there, cold—"

Musa cut her off, mimicking her high voice. "—_and alone, or even if you were alive without anyone to help you_."

"Musa, you're making it real hard for me to hear you out."

Musa groaned. "I know—it's just…you use the _same_ line _every_ time I leave! Even if it's just for half an hour."

Stella pouted yet somehow managed to keep her voice light and upbeat. "Practice makes perfect! And you give me a lot of practice."

Musa sighed into the phone and Stella chewed on her bottom lip. This could be her only chance to fix this—she knew that if she didn't, Musa might do something worse and decide not to explain. Or decide that she wasn't coming back to Alfea.

But this was Musa. It'd been her mother's dying wish that she go on with her training to be a good fairy, and despite her father's constant resentment, as a team effort they had convinced him. Musa did whatever she could to respect her mother's memory. Even if that 'whatever' was staying somewhere when she was feeling flighty.

A thought struck her. "Why are you calling from Brandon's phone."

Musa chuckled. "Well, you see, I was kinda snooping through Riven's stuff when this picture fell to the ground so of course I went to pick it up, right"—Stella rolled her eyes. Of course; this would have to be one of the times when Musa actually _explained_ something—"and then all the sudden I hear these footsteps outside the door so I'm completely freaked out." Stella hummed into the phone, letting the motormouth fairy know that she was listening instead of dozing—though she was close.

"So of course, I had to close everything back up—aparently I did a good enough job because Brandon didn't say anything—and then I went and sat in front of the door, you know, so no one could get it. Then all the sudden, Brandon's pushing his way in telling me to shut up."

Stella laughed. "Of course."

"Yeah. But then he hands me this _huge_ tray of _amazing_ food—damn, lemme tell you, that boy can _cook_!"

Stella's intensively manicured brows knitted together. "Brandon? He can't even boil water, however that's done."

Musa clicked her tongue. "Not Brandon, R—Red fountain specialist…um…my cousin…Helia. Yeah. Helia." Stella found this odd—according to Flora, Helia didn't like to cook. But he made good sushi—something no one should eat in the morning, in Stella's opinion.

"Helia?" She wasn't convinced.

"Yeah, Helia. My cousin Helia. But anyway, I was cold so all the sudden Brandon kicks the corner of this cabinet that it took me forever to open which completely pissed me off—I mean, it took me _ages_!" Stella sighed. "So then he throws me one of Riven's hoodies—you know, the dark red one that's so comfortable and makes him look _super_ buff? That one."

Yeah. Musa didn't have a crush _at all_. As if.

"—but then I realized that I hadn't shifted out of my winx and then he throws his phone at me and says 'Call Stella' but of course, I didn't want to—"

Stella cleared her throat daintily, slowly bringing Musa to a stop. "Two things. First, why didn't you want to, and second: you're at Red Fountain?"

Stella could tell they would be there a while.

**·**

It wasn't every day in Magix that you saw someone curled up on the ground in the pouring rain off to the side of the road. Of course, in this part of town it was every _other_ day…but yesterday had filled the quota. Passing bystanders (the few that there were considering the dark magic oozing from the sky) thought it odd, but none were brave (or stupid, depending on the viewer) enough to go closer.

Except one.

"Hey, miss…" A man with a gruff looking beard looking in desperate need of a haircut (and some soap) inched closer to her while holding his dirty hand out before him as leverage between them. "Are you okay?" He jammed a sweaty finger into her back, poking her to see if she was still moving. If she wasn't, he was sure he'd be able to get a fair enough price for her at that necrophiliac's trade store—young girl like her, it wouldn't matter if she was attractive or not. Though it wouldn't hurt. He went in closer to her, feeling for a pulse in her neck.

With movements too quick for him to fathom, the witch's eyes popped open and her bony hand went to his throat, constricting his windpipe from even a last breath of air. He clawed at her hand, trying to release her grip from his neck, but to no avail. She was much stronger than she looked.

Icy smiled cruelly, her lips twisting into something sinister and her previously clouded eyes retaining the constant insanity. She cocked her head to the side, examining the purple faced man with a look of disappointment. "Never better."

It took only a second for her sharp nails to sever the artery in his neck, then for her hands to twist his head with a snap. She watched as the life drained from his face and once his body had started to go cold, she dropped the corpse to the ground. Icy stared down at the lifeless body and pouted. "This is what people have become while I was gone?" She shook her head as she spoke to herself. Wiping her blood stained hands on the shorts she wore, she sighed. "Oh well." Icy's sharp heeled boots sunk into the soft flesh with a sickening ease as she walked over him to the street.

Icy turned her head to view the dimly lit town and chuckled to herself. "Welcome back to Magix."

* * *

**Okay, that's the end of that chapter! Haha, i had fun with Icy. The last little snipplet was the first part that i wrote for this chapter and for some reason i wanted a really confusing lead up. The butterflies thing i think worked out well enough. She's like a schizo! "I'm good icy. Now i'm evil Icy! Look at the sun! No, don't!"**

**I've got about...possibly 7 chapters planned after this so far. Hopefully there's gonna be some more Musa/Riven. Keep holding on! **

**SO, Reviews are welcomed. Heck, death threats are as well. Only, death threats don't recieve the complimentary breakfast bar. But they get a bagel.**

**xx Echo.**


	9. Chapter 8

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West aka Echo**

**Disclaimer: Don't own winx club. I don't even own the floor i'm sitting on because i didn't own the chair that was taken away...**

**Pairing: MusaxRiven. **

**Rated T for language.**

**Edit AN: thank you, Darev, for pointing out the loading issue. I absolutely had no idea about the paragraphs being so messed up; when i saw it, my eyes just about popped out.**

**So, paragraphs fixed.**

**I hope. Lemme know if anyone notices if it doesn't.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 8.

Darcy couldn't have been any more annoyed than she was at this time. Truly, it wasn't even feasible. Her search for the fairy had come up dry and all entrances to Red Fountain were magically barricaded. She couldn't go to see Stormy to vent because…Stormy was a traitor. She couldn't go to Icy because she was insane and frankly she couldn't handle looking at her, and…there was nowhere else to go.

So Darcy walked slowly back to their flat, thankful that she'd put a weather-repellent spell on herself before she left. If she hadn't, she was sure her hair would be disastrous and her makeup running would make her look like a drowned cat. The midday stragglers in the pub had left by now, so she figured it had to be some time in the afternoon. Her heels were giving her hell by the time she came to the place where her door had previously been above the tavern.

She looked over the handiwork of Stormy's visit and groaned—she'd have to do something about a door. Perhaps a one-sided vortex? That would weed out any intruders.

Darcy glanced into the dark room—on second thought, it might also make Icy disappear were she to wander off for a late night walk.

Darcy loomed over her thin sister in all her six foot glory, staring down at her with an expression that one would only otherwise see on someone wielding a powerful weapon with bloodlust on their tongue.

The bitch seemed different somehow—more _controlled_? Icy's eyes were definitely less round, less wide, though they still looked as glazed and wild as ever—perhaps even more than before, only now in a controlled way that made it twice as lethal. Her head wasn't whipping around randomly as it always had, but rather she was making small, precise turns as she sat in the corner. Her knees weren't drawn to her, but rather spread lazily in front of her and her arms lay at her side.

Darcy sighed. It was too much to wish that what she was seeing was real—it had to be Icy's madness getting to her. She kicked her sister's leather bound foot. "You're still sitting there?"

Icy's head snapped up quickly, her piercing eyes boring into Darcy's own. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, showing that Darcy's show of leadership amused her. She ran her fingers over the bracelet that Darcy had fashioned from her cut hair and laughed coldly. "I'm just trying to see what the fuck I was looking at all these months." She stood glared at Darcy. "What, no welcome back for me?"

Without realizing it, Darcy replied out of instinct. "Considering the state of the tavern, I'm guessing you already had a party to celebrate." Then Darcy's eyes widened but otherwise she showed no further sign of her shock. Icy had spoken—really _spoken_ in the way that she only did in her rages. But she wasn't speaking riddles. It was like she had before her capture.

Icy rolled her eyes, pushing her way to her feet. When the two were as close to eye to eye as they would ever be, she sighed and clenched her jaw. "What I want to know, dear sister, is why we're still here when there's so obviously nothing worth the stay."

Darcy struggled for words as Icy took in the dingy room. She hadn't expected—though, maybe she had—that Icy would _completely_ go back to herself. Her 'take control, listen to no one' self.

Icy brushed the dirt off her bloodstained jeans (Darcy mentally noted to ask about the bloody fingerprints later). She squared her shoulders and flicked a hair from her face. "Now…

"Let's pay our dear sister a visit."

**°·**

It had been three days since Musa had woken up in her cousins' room at Red Fountain. It had been two days since her Uncle Saladin (the headmaster of Red Fountain) had discovered that she was there. And it had only been one day since she'd been informed via hologram by Headmistress Faragonda that at soon as the storm let up, she would be returned to Alfea and then confined to her room with the exception of her lessons to which she would be escorted to for as long as the two deemed fit.

Musa was not looking forward to her return.

Three days ago, she had been looking forward to torturing Riven just for the fun of it because it seemed that's what she did best—that and getting a reaction out of the moody specialist was just downright fun.

As soon as Brandon left, Musa had shifted herself from the glittery, shimmery fairy outfit into what she'd been wearing when she changed initially. She was rather upset to find that her ripped wing reflected on her skin, leaving exactly the same outline that the tear had left in her wing imprinted on her shoulder in an open wound. She frowned, but pulled the sweater over her head and down until it nearly concealed the shorts she was wearing. She went through his things, accessorizing her outfit until she was happy.

So when Riven walked into the room, he frowned at her. '_Why are you wearing that?'_ he'd asked. She just shrugged.

'_Why? Does it bother you?'_

Riven wanted to say yes, he truly did. He wanted to yell at her and tell her to stay the fuck away from him; away from his stuff. But…

'_Not really.' _He shrugged half heartedly. _'It looks better on you. Keep it.'_

Musa couldn't do anything except stare in astonishment. _This was no fun_… _'You're not angry.'_

He could tell it wasn't a question. _'No, Muse.' _Riven had grimaced and turned away from her, picking his keys from a peg in the wall. His eyes were tortured as he looked at her a last time. _'If any of the guys ask, I went out.'_ Musa nodded, biting at her fingernail. It was a habit he noticed that she did a lot when she didn't like the situation she was in—and he hated that he found it incredibly enticing. But he couldn't…

'_If a teacher asks—'_

She cut him off. '_If a teacher asks, you're in the shower. Don't worry, I know the basics.'_ She grumbled, plucking at the sleeve of his sweater. _'But unlike my friends, I won't rat you out.'_

_But why wouldn't she? She was trying to make him angry._

_Angry, not get him in trouble._

Ugh, goddamn conscience.

**°·**

He'd come back in the middle of the night, but Musa wasn't asleep. In fact, it came as a complete surprise to him when he walked into the common room to see her sitting on the couch staring out the window with a pillow clutched to her chest.

'_Muse, what are you doing up?'_

She looked over at him drowsily and frowned. _'I haven't been able to listen to music in two days and I couldn't sleep.' _She chewed on her dark lips, drawing Riven's attention to them more than they had been before. He suppressed a groan—the lighting wasn't helping his purpose. Musa sighed._ 'Besides, whenever I sleep, I have…nightmares.'_

Oh great. She wanted to talk about it. Typical girl.

But Muse didn't say a word. She just sat on the couch with her knees drawn up staring out the window of pitch without any noticeable contact with reality with a half unraveled pillow in her lap. She was watching the storm with an unholy interest. What was so fascinating about a few clouds?

Riven sat down on the couch next to her, instantly wishing he'd had the common sense to change into something dry. He was soaking wet, which would surely make her mad. Girls didn't like getting when their clothes got wet—Darcy sure didn't. Of course, Riven always thought Muse was cute when she was angry. He would never admit it though.

When she didn't even seem to notice, Riven frowned.

"Are your dreams really bothering you that much?" He didn't say what he meant, which was, '_Why the hell aren't you getting pissed that I'm in your personal bubble space_?'

Musa shook her head distractedly. Even with the interference from the storm, she could _feel_ him there (she always could)—he was like a tensely wound coil of pent up emotions, some of which stuck above the rest. Betrayal, hurt, fear, jealousy, anger, desire, love—_Fuck_, he _loved_ Darcy? As if _dating_ her wasn't bad enough.

Which brought up a question, a question she'd conceived out of blindly green jealousy—"Where'd you go?" She couldn't look away from him. She couldn't draw her eyes away from it.

_Why the hell wouldn't she look at him?_ "Out." If she wouldn't look at him that was all she'd get…not that'd he'd give her much more even if she _was_.

Musa's face fell. "I know that." She sighed. "Were you in the storm?"

He smirked. "No, Muse. I went outside and the sun was shining. I'm really drenched because I decided to audition as a fish." _What was she getting at_?

Her brows drew forward. "I was just asking."

Great; he'd insulted her. "Does it matter?" Riven's hand itched to reach out and touch the pale skin at her side that glowed from the illumination of the storm. She chewed on her bottom lip, not knowing how it drove him mad. It hurt him to keep from reaching out to her.

Musa sighed. "For some reason—a reason that makes me feel incredibly guilty—I want to be out there in it. No, not want." Her eyes locked with his, shocking her with the cerulean ferocity. "_Need._"

His chest constricted—she was an empath, wasn't she? Did she know?"

Musa closed her eyes and turned back away from him. Her voice was barely a whisper. "They scream."

"Who?" Riven moved closer to her.

She shook her head slowly. "So many of them, all haunted by the clouds of magic, drawn in by the power…" She looked at him again, her eyes rimmed with red. "They lost everything; their faces, their lives, their families and friends…all for just one taste…"

Riven's eyes narrowed.

Musa's widened. Her voice was hoarse. "I need to be in it…"

As if in a trance, Musa scrambled to her feet. Her eyes held no depth. She was headed towards the door, not caring what was in her way as long as she got there.

Riven jumped into her path. She tried to side step him and he caught her by her waist. She struggled against him—she _needed_ to be part of it! And he was in her way. But why was he? He could go with her. _The Storm_ loved them all. _The Storm_ loved everyone.

"Muse," Riven growled. Her hands slammed against his chest, doing her very best to get free. He scooped her up (taking advantage of her slight weight) and sat her on the couch, holding her in place by her knees. His hands held her face so it was looking at him. He wouldn't let her look out the window.

Riven's hands smoothed her bangs away from her face—she was beautiful (not that he didn't already know that). But her eyes…her eyes were dialating—going from small pin pricks to dark saucers surrounded by an ocean—glazed over, and unfocused. A tear slid down her cheek and his calloused thumb swiped it away. She shouldn't cry.

Riven placed a gentle kiss against her forehead. He pulled her forward and wrapped her in his arms, cradling her head against his chest. She cried.

Whatever was wrong with her, he wasn't losing her to it. Whatever was messing with her—he'd kill it.

Twice.

**°·**

Four days later, the night that had passed between Musa and Riven were unspoken. It wasn't that either of them was ashamed, but Musa couldn't remember a single second of it. She only remembered waking up with her head on his chest; both of them sprawled across the floor in the morning. He hadn't had the will power to tell her, hoping that if he didn't, it wouldn't happen again.

His hopes were in vain.

Every night since then, the same thing happened. Except when it did, Riven made sure he was already holding onto the fairy when she started for the door.

Each morning, Helia found himself torn. Torn between being happy that his friends were _finally_ getting along, finally admitting their feelings…but then he realized that they would never admit it. Not to themselves, not to each other. So then he was torn between that and being furious with Riven. Because she was his cousin!

But somehow, the second reason seemed insignificant. Because they just _were_.

It was the last day before Musa was to be escorted through the tunnels back to Alfea. Faragonda had arranged for it to be done sooner, but when she and their uncle learned of the physical damage done, they had mutually agreed that she should stay until her powers were back up.

Helia threw a pile of light clothes at his cousin. Musa caught them and looked down.

"What's this for?"

Helia grinned. "Just because you've been recuperating here all week doesn't mean you get out of your Saturday training."

Musa frowned. "Since when is it Saturday?"

"Since midnight. When you tried to sneak out again."

Helia walked out of the room. Musa stood in stunned silence. She couldn't remember ever trying to leave the week that she was in Red Fountain—except that one time when she came across the secret tunnel that led to the Black Mud Swamp…but Sky had intercepted her. So she had no idea what Helia meant.

"Hurry up Musa."

Musa rolled her eyes. Why did Helia have to be in a hurry _now_? In his whole life, he'd never rushed anything. And it was just training.

**°·**

She walked into the practice room wearing a pair of boxers and one of Timmy's old shirts—because out of all the boys, he was the smallest. It still felt like a tent, and Musa had stolen some of Helia's twine that he used for his hair to tighten it around her waist. She realized why most fairies wore midriffs while fighting—it was just so much more comfortable.

The training room was all empty, just how it always was on Saturdays when she got there—Helia reserved it for the afternoons on the weekend. Only, unlike every other room, it wasn't just her and her cousin.

Because Riven was standing by him, shirtless. Whereas Helia was dressed as if he had just happened to walk in.

She crossed her arms. "What's goin on, coz?"

Helia smiled innocently. "I don't know what you mean." Her eyes narrowed, and her right brow quirked up. Helia walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Riven's training you today. He thinks a pacifist isn't the best for teaching someone to fight."

Helia opened the door and turned to face her quickly before she could fire anything at him—"Besides, I've got a date."

Her attack hit the door and repelled back, slamming with the same force she'd thrown against her arm. "Fuck."

Riven laughed at her. "What's wrong, pixie? Afraid you might lose?"

Musa scoffed and crossed her arms. "You wish."

Riven smirked. "Then let's go."

**°·**

She was good. Riven would admit that.

They'd been sparring for nearly an hour and she'd yet to show any sign of weakness, despite her split skin and broken ankle. He was an expert at fighting and he could hardly find a flaw in her technique. But it didn't stop him from finding a few things that would help.

"You're kicking too high."

Her foot connected with his side and he moved with the kick. Musa stumbled.

"Would you rather I aimed for your nuts?" He caught her foot an inch away and twisted it, sending Musa to the ground. Musa growled and jumped back up, wincing as she landed on her ankle wrong.

"You shouldn't do that, Muse."

"Why? Because it'd make _you_ the one that couldn't walk?"

She was getting tired and he was making her angry. Her shoulder was killing her, she thought her back was bleeding again, and her head was spinning—from the screaming of the storm, the headache she had every morning now, and from the falls she'd taken. But even though they were sparring, Riven never hit her. Musa didn't get it—it was for practice.

Riven rolled his eyes and grabbed her fist that was flying towards him, and he turned her, causing her back to hit the wall. He closed in on her, his body almost touching hers and a hand on either side of her face. If she moved, she'd end up brushing against him and she couldn't duck around him. Her breathing hitched.

"Give?" His breathe fanned across her face.

Musa stared at the window to anchor herself. "Never." She couldn't concentrate when he was this close.

He smirked and leant in closer, moving so they were eye to eye without anywhere else to look. Musa's eyes locked on his, then she squeezed hers shut as tightly as she could. She was biting at her lip. Riven's hand wandered to the pale skin on her neck. Her hair stuck to her forehead and neck with sweat, but Riven didn't care.

"Give."

She refused to open her eyes as she shook her head. "No." He noticed that her voice had gone up several octaves. She squirmed uncomfortably, and Riven moved a step closer, completely pinning her against the wall. She couldn't move.

"You realize that you've got nowhere to go, so technically I win."

"You need to know when to shut up."

Riven leant in and his lips brushed against hers, barely touching. Her eyes shot open.

_Fuck_. Musa tried to move back—she _couldn't_ be this close to him because she knew she'd do something—but there was nothing but the wall.

She could only move forward.

Musa choked back what she thought was her pride and slammed her eyes shut—because maybe if she didn't see him, it wouldn't happen.

But still, she wound her arms around his neck and Musa felt herself lunge at him, locking her lips with his as he stumbled back from her advance. Riven thought he shouldn't be surprised—he _knew_ she wanted to kiss him. But he didn't think she would. She was as stubborn as him.

"What are you doing?" She didn't move her hands from his hair and she nibbled on his ear. _Not that he cared, as long as she kept doing it_…

Musa shook her head and pulled his face back up to hers. "Shutting you up. It works _so much_ better if you stop talking."

Riven's mouth twisted into a grin. As long as she wasn't screaming at him…His mouth closed back on hers and Musa found her back up against the wall. The rough wall dug into her scratched up back and she winced.

"Riven, I think you're doing it wrong."

Musa's eyes flew open and she shoved Riven away, nearly prying his arms from her. She fell to the ground and her head hit the wall. Spots littered her vision when she opened her eyes to look up at the door—it was Helia.

Helia grinned. "Just came by to tell you that Saladin's on his way to escort Musa back to Alfea. I figured you'd want time to change." He chuckled to himself, and then turned to Riven. "Just so you know, dude, if you touch my cousin, I'll kill you."

Riven looked down at Musa, then smirked at Helia. "Yeah. I'm being threatened by a pacifist…" He rolled his eyes. "I'm scared."

Musa kicked his foot. "Help me up, smartass."

As Riven reached his hand down to help Musa to her feet, Helia cleared his throat. "Do what you need to, Muse, but Uncle's going to be at my room in two minutes and if you're not there, I'm screwed over."

When Musa was on her feet and Helia was gone, Riven swooped down and pressed his lips to hers. He pulled back too quickly, and Musa almost wished he hadn't.

"What's wrong with you?" She whispered. She couldn't look at him…

Riven smiled cockily and leant forward and spoke lowly into her ear, "Save a dance for me."

"Dance?"

"Two weeks." Fuck, _that_ dance. Musa had forgotten about the mandatory dance that Alfea was throwing—ugh, it meant dresses and makeup and _Stella_ freaking out…

"I wouldn't dance with you even in your dreams." That should work.

Riven's smile widened and he kissed her again, leaving her mind scrambled and breathless. He grabbed a t-shirt from the ground. "And babe, I dance with you in my dreams _every_ night."

* * *

**Well, finally! Sorry for the wait. First it was that i had no inspiration, but then when i _had_ inspiration, the flash drive that it was saved on broke IN HALF. Two minutes ago i had either a flash of genius or insanity and i decided to make it work. AND IT DID!!!! haha, i felt insanely accomplished. So i finished this nifty little chapter and now i've just gotta work on the middle of the next.**

**xxEcho**


	10. Chapter 9

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West aka Echo**

**Pairing: BishopxStormy, minor MusaxRiven in this chapter (just talking about it). Bishop's the specialist with the purple ponytail. But for my sanity, i'm pretending he has a regular haircut...like...actually hair and not just a small patch grown to a foot xD i think he was only in a few episodes, maybe the first or second season?**

**Rated T for language and murder.**

**Thanks for reviewing.**

**This chapter's a little...well, let's just say the same Icy that dug her nails into a homeless man's throat and twisted his neck around then pouted is in it. This chapter's pretty long. So....yeah. In a way, it's also sort of a turning point.**

**Enjoy...?**

* * *

**Chapter Nine.**

**_The third wave: Sorrow_**_._

_Matlin held her nephew's hand with a strength that surprised the young boy. Helia sat by her on her bed, waiting for Musa to come in. He had to see her one last time. She meant the world to him, and he to her._

_He didn't want to leave his best friend. He couldn't leave his sister, his cousin, alone in this place. Especially if she was losing her mother._

_But he had no choice._

_In that moment, Helia couldn't stand himself. He was doing what he swore to himself he never would—he was abandoning Musa. She was the one that stuck by him through whatever she did—even if she got him into more trouble than she could get him out of—and she was the reason he held onto who he really was even if he was trying to be melded into something he wasn't._

_He was almost ten years old and he understood himself more than some people ever would._

"_Helia," his aunt croaked. He turned his saddened eyes to her. She was staring up at him, her face sheen with sweat. Her hands were freezing and she was very pale. Just as his mother had been. _

_But Matlin refused to lie down and she refused to miss her own concert that night. She'd make it and she would sing for the world one last time._

_She squeezed his hand. "When your mother died, I promised her I would never let you forget who you were. I promised her that I would not let your father turn you into a monster." Helia grimaced and Matlin smiled softly at him. "I wasn't the one who did that."_

_Helia couldn't dispute that. He wanted to, but he couldn't._

"_Musa is the one that's held you together this last year—and she's the most important person in the world to both of us." Helia nodded. Matlin sighed. "Promise me, Helia."_

"_Anything." Helia picked at his sleeve nervously with the hand that his aunt wasn't grasping._

_Matlin's eyes scanned his face. He was too young to ask of this…but she knew her husband would not be the strong one when she died._

"_Promise me you'll keep Musa safe."_

_It was a very large thing to ask of the young boy. He knew it and she knew it. However, when it came to Musa, he didn't think of it as anything but what he was meant to do. He felt it in his heart that even if his aunt didn't ask him, he would still promise her to protect her._

"_I promise you."_

_Matlin smiled. "Thank you." She brushed her hand on his cheek. "You are such a wonderful boy, Helia. Your mother is proud."_

_He didn't ask why she said _is_._

_Matlin brushed her hair away and sat up straighter. She smoothed her skirt over her legs and let go of her nephew's hand. The sickly fairy smiled brightly, a smile that would not reach her dark eyes._

_Musa crashed through the door, skipping joyfully. Her pigtails were falling everywhere and her skirt had mud caked all over it—that's what she got for wearing a skirt to visit Stella. The two could never exist peacefully. Musa smiled wickedly, remembering the mud fight that had passed not hours earlier._

_She saw her cousin. "Helia!" Helia stepped back from the impact of his small cousin slamming into him and he hugged her back. Helia frowned. He kissed her muddy hair and turned to the door._

"_Sorry, Musa. I have to go now."_

_Musa pouted. She hated when he left—and he left so much. "How long will you be gone?" Musa's dirty thumb pressed against a tooth that was hanging on precariously to her mouth._

"_I'll see you soon."_

_Musa looked at her mother. "Why is mommy sad?"_

_Matlin brought a cold, shaking hand to her mouth. Her smile had fallen from her face like melted wax. She smiled again and gestured for her daughter to join her. She wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Not sad, happy. Because you're happy."_

**°·**

Musa had barely been back in the dorms for an hour and already voices were rising. Only, this time it wasn't because she'd been gone.

"Musa, freeze." Stella's eyes went wide.

Bloom's did too. "I must be mistaken."

Techna's eyebrows knitted together. "I could have sworn you just said—"

"_The boys went where_!?"

Musa wanted to be surprised at her friends' simultaneous outbursts (especially Stella's screaming) but then she reminded herself that overreacting was something they all (save for Flora) had in common.

"Stormy's wedding," Musa repeated.

"Wow," Flora muttered, looking down at her hands in her lap. She quirked a brow up in morbid surprise, trying to hide her disgust. "Never thought that crazy bitch would get married."

They were all amazed at Flora's choice word—but they knew there was a distinct animosity between the flower fairy and the weather witch. For that reason, they let it slide.

"And to _Bishop_," Stella gasped. "Such…"

Layla sauntered in, having heard all the conversation from the hall. "I'm amazed. Bishop seemed pretty normal for a dude with anger issues." She cocked her head to the side. "Like Riven on meds."

Musa's lips puckered—she wanted to say something to repute that, but at the same time, speaking up would be walking a narrow line that even _she_ didn't have the balance for.

So she let herself ignore it and looked for something else of interest. Layla looked different from the last time Musa had seen her a week before. Her dark wavy hair was short—now just above her shoulders with the exception of the dyed, beaded strands in the front. It was choppy, but somehow it suited her.

"You cut your hair," Musa stated.

Layla made a face like she was choking on a lime while trying to give birth—not an attractive face. She flexed her fists. "I didn't cut it," Layla hissed. Musa had a vague inclination that this wasn't the first time she'd explained it. "That little freshman _whore_ _Nixxie_ got pissed when I _creamed_ her at hallway surfing and she fucking _singed_ it all off."

Ah. Of course. Layla's hair was her only vanity. She refused to wear makeup or nail polish, but she was slightly fanatical about her hair.

Stella waved her hand at Layla. "Who _cares_ about _hair_!?" She drew her legs in and perched on the couch like a crow eying its kill. Her honey eyes lit in passion for gossip. "Stormy and _Bishop_? When, how, and _when_!?"

Musa shrugged. "I don't know. Didn't care enough to ask." That was a lie—her tongue had burned to ask the same thing. "Riven just said that he and the boys were going to Bishop's wedding and the guys couldn't bring dates because—and I quote—'_the bride hates you jinx club groupies_'. After some…persuasion he admitted it was Stormy." Persuasion was the word—once she herself felt buzzed from kissing him, she'd learned just where to push to make him talk.

"By persuasion you mean snogging the living daylights out of him, of course." Musa's face retained a hard indifference and Stella squealed. "Ooh, I knew it! Tell, _tell_! When did it happen because I _totally_ called this one? How'd he ask you? When's your first date—"

Musa threw a pillow at the blonde and rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms, holding them tightly against her and she bit her lip. "We're not _together_, Stell. We'll _never_ be together." _Stab_. "He hates me as much as I hate him." _Twist._ "Besides, he's seeing _Darcy_ again." _Rinse with shampoo and repeat with deliberate, time consuming precision_.

"Darcy?"

Musa nodded. Techna pursed her lips and resigned to her room—she had to talk with Timmy. Immediately; wedding or not.

"Why would he be with _her_?" Bloom balked at the idea.

Stella rolled her eyes and whipped her head to face Musa. "Have you _seen_ them together?"

Musa nodded. "Yes."

"When?" Stella's eyes narrowed—she'd be _damned_ if all her hard work ended with that whorewitch. She had _not_ spent hours pissing Riven off for this. She had _not _learned how to project her voice into someone else's mind for _this_.

Musa's feet bounced. She didn't want to talk about this, and she needed music. But fucking _Techna_ rewired all her stereos and her powers were on lock-down until the dance.

"Um…" she screwed up her eyes, wracking her mind for a date. "They were kissing by the lake the night he k—drove me home." She didn't want them to know about that. "So…almost two weeks."

Stella quirked an eyebrow. "Are you sure you saw what you think you did?"

The blue haired fairy's jaw twitched. "I _saw_ her shove her filthy _tongue_ down his _throat_." Okay, so that was a _complete_ exaggeration, but it was for a good cause…

"Riven wouldn't do that again," Flora mumbled. He wouldn't, not after the trust he'd lost. He wouldn't risk losing Musa…

"Riven's a pig," Layla stated. She shook her head pitifully and stalked to her door. "He gets a thrill out of screwing the enemy and he wants it that much more than he wants the _approval_ he'd get from you pushovers if he was dating Musa." Layla slammed her door shut behind her.

Huh. Stella hated being called a pushover. She wasn't one—this had just been coming too slow and too precisely for too long to give up on. Musa and Riven were fate. They could _deny_ it all they wanted, but the feelings _were_ there like bleeding hearts on the sleeves they _didn't_ have. It wasn't being a pushover if you were the one helping to push.

Flora frowned. "Why is Layla being so mean to Musa?"

"Because she'd bitter that she doesn't have a guy." Bloom rolled her eyes at Stella.

"Say, Stell, think you could say that any _louder_?" Obvious sarcasm—finally, Bloom.

Stella looked at the redhead blankly and screamed, "_She's bitter because she has no guy!_" Musa's hands flew to her ears.

"I heard you the first time, Stella!" Layla yelled back.

**°·**

Riven never thought he'd live to see the day when he willingly went back into Cloud Tower.

No, really. He figured the only way he'd go back was if Darcy desecrated his body and dragged the pieces back to dance all over in the tower as a statement against Griffin.

But no. Instead he was walking in through the front door of the school wearing a stupid looking penguin suit feeling completely ridiculous. He didn't even get _along_ with Bishop that much and he _hated_ Stormy.

So why was he even here?

Well, since Musa had left it wasn't like he had anything better to do. And Sky hid his keys—Riven promised him a black eye for it—so that he wouldn't be able to get out of coming.

He couldn't think of anywhere else he'd hate to be more than here.

Sickening. Watching a group of young witches sit and glare at each other, he wondered if all witches' weddings were like this or if Stormy was just especially unpleasant. Really, wouldn't it be at least a bit disheartening to see friends and family glaring and looking green while having to do—whatever it was they did at weddings.

He'd been to one wedding in his life—and that was when he was thirteen. He snuck in to steal some of the food and learned that old people got a little more worked up about the occasion than he'd thought was possible.

Though, at the time, he had managed to accidently knock a bottle of wine onto the bride's white dress…but if it hadn't been so long, there wouldn't have been that issue. It was her fault for not realizing that she wasn't a giant.

Riven leant against the wall awkwardly. He might have to be there, but he didn't have to _act_ like he enjoyed it. Watching the frizzy haired witch in a poufy white dress profess her love for his former classmate was disturbing on so many levels. He had trouble believing either of them were even _capable_ of feeling any emotion other than anger, hate, and boredom.

He wished Musa was there. She'd at least liven it up a bit—or help him break out.

Freaking Stormy. It was her fault he was suffering. If the stupid girl hadn't accepted Bishop's proposal he wouldn't be here. Bishop always had bad taste in girls.

"It's not that bad, Riven." Brandon rolled his eyes. Riven was being so dramatic. If he'd at least pretend to be _bored_ (and not _tortured_) like everyone else, then he wouldn't be such a center point. Riven stared blankly at him. "Okay, so it is that bad. But look at them. _They_ at least look happy."

Riven followed Brandon's gaze to the witch and Bishop at the top of the stairs, their hands joined by a frail white ribbon. White for purity—something neither of them were, for different reasons. He would admit though that it looked like Bishop wasn't scowling. And Stormy didn't look completely deranged when she did her hair up and smiled.

Riven shrugged. "Still. It's weird." He nodded at a middle aged woman, her skin the colour of washed out coffee, her hair a dark, dull violet. Possibly the bride's mother. "I mean, fairies _love_ things like this. But then you come to a wedding for a witch and everyone's moaning and groaning about how _'sickening'_ it is that someone's _'throwing away an acceptable life of evil for slavery to a man_'. I mean, really?" He groaned. Not only that, but within the first ten minutes of being there he'd gotten six propositions for sex from women twice his age or barely over half it—he shuddered at the thought.

Brandon sighed. "It'd be better if Stella was here."

Riven snorted. "Yeah, like that would go well. Little-Miss-Sunshine would take one look at the place, ramble about it being too dreary, then take that stupid little staff of hers and do what she'd call 'installing some decent lighting'. Then there'd be screams and all the angry witches here would burst into piles of ash from the light." He looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "On second thought, maybe you should invite the pixie."

Brandon rolled his eyes. "If only, man."

Riven groaned. He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wall. He didn't understand girls—they waited their whole life for _this_? Stella and Bloom were always squealing about what their weddings will be like. He hoped it was a fairy thing, because the witch seemed not to care.

Brandon stared up at the couple. It _looked_ like behind the masks of indifference and anger that they truly cared for each other. Brandon could see it, but he knew Riven couldn't—not that Riven was genius when it came to interpreting emotion.

Up on the landing of the grand staircase, Stormy smiled. She didn't smile often, but it seemed that this day she couldn't stop. She felt beautiful—she was wearing the dress that until recently she would have been ridiculed for dreaming of, she'd managed to make her wild hair calm down with only a few spells, and she was going to be the wife of the man that stood before her. And she hadn't even spelled him.

She'd never before thought it would be possible that she'd even _consider_ marrying someone—she was as changing as her power. And yet…somehow, after that first battle, the vision of his face had been forever imprinted into her mind. So it must have been fate when they met a year later while she was 'taking a walk' to get away from Icy, Darcy, and Darkar.

Stormy looked up at Bishop, her stormy green eyes locking with his onyx. His sparkled at her and even though he did not smile, she could tell. She could always tell.

Seven words from the Cloud Tower matriarch and it was official. They were married.

Her face split into the biggest grin that had ever graced her face, and even her _husband_—she could hardly believe she was really married!—smiled. He'd never smiled at her before. But when he leant down and kissed her, she knew.

The doors crashed open—it wasn't something easy to do, considering the weight of the doors. Stormy's eyes snapped open and her smile fell. She looked first to Bishop.

He mouthed the words he'd never said out loud before—'_I love you_.' Her heart nearly broke, and she mouthed it back. Until then, the words had passed without ever really being said.

An eerie clapping filled the quiet chamber.

Stormy didn't want to look. She didn't want to see who it was. But something in her caused her head to turn. And her face to drain of its colour. Shivers ran up her spine and her skin prickled.

Icy and Darcy. They stood just inside from the storm (oddly, though, they'd dressed for the occasion), the clouds crackling behind them, illuminating their bony faces.

Icy smiled at her. "Stormy, so good to see you again."

Oh fuck.

Darcy turned her head to look around the room, and Stormy saw her eyes narrow on the red-haired specialist—why, oh why had Bishop invited him? "Wow, real party you got here." Icy and Darcy smirked at each other and started up the stairs. "Could use a little livening up, though, don't you think?"

Icy ran her jagged fingers across Bishop's jaw—she looked down at his face and cocked her head to the side. "So _this_ is the little hero that my sister left us for." A line of blood dripped down his cheek. "I've heard _so much_ about you."

Bishop's face lost its colour, but he refused to show any further fear.

Icy laughed and Darcy stepped behind Stormy slowly. Icy whipped her head to look at her younger sister. "Oh, it looks like he recognizes me."

Stormy's fists tightened. "Don't you _dare_ touch him." If they hurt him, she'd lose it. She'd kill them.

Darcy chuckled and threw an arm around her shoulder, leaning down until her head was resting on Stormy's shoulder. She looked over at the boy and chuckled. "Not a problem. We're just here to personally deliver our wedding gift."

Icy nodded in agreement, sticking her lip out innocently. "You didn't think we'd forget our own _sister's_ wedding, did you?"

This was not good. Stormy knew that even before Darcy's clawed hands clenched down on her shoulders, her nails digging into her skin. '_Run_,' she told him wordlessly. But Bishop shook his head and smiled sadly at her. "DAMMIT, GO!"

All it took was a second and Icy had her husband encased in a thick block of ice. Stormy screamed and Darcy cast a spell on her, silencing her, trapping her from any movement at all. She couldn't turn away.

"That's not nice, Stormy," Darcy's gruff voice mumbled into her ear. "We just want to meet your lover."

Icy walked around the block of ice, dragging her nail across it as she went. Small chippings clattered against the polished floor.

Stormy's hair started to spark.

"Oh, does that make you mad?" Icy smirked at her.

"What happened to you?" Stormy hissed out. The bind she was in was strong, but she could still manage that much.

Icy raised an eyebrow. "I came back." She walked past the block of ice to her little sister and picked at a piece of the white skirt. "Cute." Her cold eyes looked over Stormy's hair (still steaming with fragments of lightning) to the white veil in her hair, complete with a small glittering band. "You really went all out for this _wedding_, didn't you sis?"

The white haired witch leant in close to Stormy's face, now eyelevel with the shorter girl, and her eyes narrowed. "Are you perspiring from the irony?"

Stormy tried to scream.

With a wave of her hand, Icy sent small fragments of the ice he was trapped in through the skin of Bishop's neck, like millions of little needles. His dark eyes bulged and a second later red was seeping through the small holes of the block.

Stormy's hair started to whip wildly in the air, and the chamber was filled with strong winds.

Icy drew her nail across the line she'd chipped into the ice and flicked the top half. A cube encasing Bishop's head fell to the ground and the ice shattered away.

Stormy shrieked. Lightning struck out of control in the room and the previously frozen guests scrambled to get out.

Darcy drew away from the weather witch, her hands burnt from the electricity. She vanished herself and Stormy couldn't care less where she was.

Her eyes glowed. Icy chuckled.

"You fucking bitch!"

"Ah ah ah," Icy waggled her finger back and forth and pouted. She flew into the air and seated herself on the block that Bishop's body was still frozen in. "That's not very nice. And I believe the word is _witch_, sweetie."

Stormy couldn't control it. She threw every disastrous type of storm she could think of. Winds that would rival the strongest hurricane blew through the room, hail pelted against the ground, acid rain spilled on the two of them, lightning struck, and everything she threw at her, Icy just waved away, leaving a mist of snow.

Icy yawned. "This is fun, Stormy. We'll have to do it again some time."

They heard Darcy shriek in fury.

Stormy aimed a bolt of lightning directly at Icy. She ducked.

Icy shook her head. "He's just a boy. You'll get over it." Icy suddenly pressed a hand against her head, her eyes closing on their own accord. _The pain_. When she opened them again, she watched Stormy staring at the severed head of her husband, her eyes bloodshot.

_That's what she gets_.

"When you're ready to act like the witch we both know you are, you'll find me."

Stormy's eyes narrowed. "I'll kill you."

Icy laughed and it turned into a rasping cough. She drew her hand away from her mouth, seeing a small pool of blood in her palm. _What the—_

Darcy rematerialized next to her, her eyes furious and scorned. Icy wiped the blood away and grinned again.

"I really doubt that."

Stormy watched as the two witches she once called her sisters faded into darkness. She sunk down to the ground, rain pattering around her on the staircase, drenching her frizzy hair flat against her face, soaking her dress. A pool of blood spilled from the ice. Stormy's hand shook as she slammed it against the stone floor, splattering blood onto the white.

Her voice shook. "Thanks for making our wedding day a little brighter."

**°·**

Musa's cheek was pressed against Stella's leg and Stella ran her fingers through her friend's hair—Stella had some conditioner that would _really_ help with the split ends, she thought. But Musa was crying, and that was more important for _now_ than hair care…but just barely.

Musa sniffed. She couldn't believe that she was _crying_ over him. "He loves her, Stella." Musa's hands wrapped around her ribcage. If it wasn't for the storm getting into her mind, she was _sure_ that she wouldn't be acting like this. That's what started the whole thing. She _never_ would have kissed Riven if it wasn't for the _storm_. "He loves her _so_ much. I could feel it."

Stella frowned. Her friend was smart—acing _most_ of her classes. How could she be so dense? "You know, Musa, for an empath you're _really _bad at reading people's emotions."

"You're disappointed in me right now. You're feeling determined, you're tired, and you miss someone. You're also getting hungry."

Stella's stomach growled and she smacked Musa's arm lightly. "Don't do that. It's weird." Stella sighed and started to braid small strands of Musa's hair. "What I mean is that you're really bad at reading the reasons _behind_ the emotions."

"What do you mean?" Musa pouted and she couldn't make herself speak above a whisper.

"I'm disappointed in you because you're too blinded by your own emotions and fears to realize what other people feel for you. I'm determined to make you realize that. I'm tired because there hasn't been any sun in weeks." Her complexion was turning pale and pasty. It did _not_ suit the sun fairy. It would hardly suit _anyone_—except for Musa. She seemed to pull it off. But Stella was also starting to feel sick. "I miss Brandon whenever I'm not with him and at times like this I miss my mother because she always knew what to say. And I'm freaking hungry."

The girls laughed.

"I think I have a box of pizza under my bed," Musa offered. Stella grimaced.

"Musa, that's disgusting! Do you have any idea how long that has been there?" Musa shrugged and a small grin spread across her face.

"Not really but nothing's growing on it so it can't be too bad." She frowned. "But for some reason the pineapple's turning brown…or green…"

Stella nearly threw up. "You need to throw that away, you idiot!"

Musa pouted. "But I want pizza."

"We'll order some."

She looked up at Stella with wide, too innocent eyes. "With pineapple?"

Stella rolled her eyes. "Of course. But only after you finish spilling your heart and soul." She pushed Musa off her lap so she was sitting next to her and Stella turned to face the small fairy. "The girls will be gone a few hours so you've got time. So spill."

Musa shook her head. "There's nothing to tell."

"I don't believe that."

She picked at the arm of the couch, only worn because this was what she did whenever Stella interrogated her. She'd pull and pinch at the fabric until there was a hole that she had to cover up with tape. "We kissed."

Stella huffed. "I know."

"A lot." She pulled the red sweater onto her lap. "He gave me his hoodie and according to Helia he stopped me from sneaking out at night. Woke up on the floor in his arms four days in a row. But I couldn't remember anything."

"Were you drunk?" Stella would _kill_ Riven if he got her drunk and used her. But even Riven wasn't that heartless.

Musa shook her head. It was the storm, it had to be. Because the last thing she remembered each night was staring at it and listening to the voices wail for her. They wanted her to help them. To help them by making them stronger. To join them. "No. I guess I just fell asleep while we were talking."

Stella smiled. "And yet he didn't leave."

"Still." Musa sighed. "Helia had Riven train with me—because he said Riven said I wouldn't learn anything from a pacifist. And we kissed again." Musa's fingers drummed against her knee. "He asked me to save him a dance for the spring dance."

The blonde's smile grew into a shining smudge of white. She sat up straighter. "Really?"

"I told him not even in his dreams."

Her smile fell. Stella hit Musa with a pillow. "Why the hell would you say that?!"

"Because…Darcy. He has a _picture_ of them for fuck's sake! And he's probably with her right now at that damn wedding." The thought brought tears to her eyes and she swallowed back the lump in the throat. "But he told me that he danced with me in his dreams every night."

The damn smile was back. "He dreams about you?"

Musa shrugged. What'd she care? So what if he _said_ he dreamt about her? It wasn't like he was telling the truth. He probably just said it so that she'd forget about him and Darcy…but the way that he kissed…

"I doubt it. He's a liar."

A liar, a thief, a scoundrel…he'd stolen her heart, lied about it, and played with her emotions until she lied to herself.

"Riven might be many things, but he can't lie Musa. Not to you."

But he could lie better than they gave him credit for.

The girls looked out the window—the storm was getting _so much_ worse…

* * *

**Chapter nine's done.... **

**If you can't tell by now, Stormy's my favourite witch. I feel bad for her. **

**To answer a question, no, Musa and Riven are not officially going out. In fact, the reason Darcy was so pissed towards the end of the wedding was because she 'vanished' to where he was standing and he broke up with her, like he'd been trying to do before Musa showed up at the lake. SHe didn't take it well, and she threw a bunch of spells at him. Because _no one_ breaks up with Darcy. And according to her, it's not over.**

**Review! I'd love to know what you think.**

**xx Echo.**


	11. Chapter 10

******Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West aka Echo**

**Pairing: MusaxRiven**

**Rated T for language, innuendo ;), and well...Darcy. We all know she's got every STD imaginable and then some.**

I think i owe y'all this. It's been what, two months? I'm fucking sorry about that too. But it's been taking me a while to write this one and i FINALLY squeezed it out from the toothpaste tube of my mind. But hey, i've been working hard. First time in 5 years that i have all passing non-D grades :) okay, so i have ONE D....but the rest are solid A's!!!!!!! yay.

**Thanks for reviewing. No joke, you guys are great. Far better people than me.**

This chapter's kinda filler. Kinda, but parts of it are key.

Aw, lovelies....where'd my page breaks go? Sadness....

* * *

**Chapter Ten.**

The mirror shook with tremors, rattling against the wall.

"Fucking Musa!" Stella glared in aggravation at her shaking reflection and tugged on her blue-haired friend's earlobe. The blonde ran a hand through the air in front of her face and breathed in deeply, closing her eyes to release her tension. When she opened them, she was her normal bubbly fairy-self. Stella shook her head. "I'm going to end up ripping all your hair out if you don't stop that. And I mean it."

Musa arched a dainty eyebrow. _As if_…

Stella waved her hand. "If you don't believe me, just keep going. _Throw_ your little _boom blasts_ for all I care. Riven might have a thing for girls who look like clowns." She smirked when Musa lowered her hand—seeming with the pulsing energy around her fist—to her lap and glared.

"I don't want to go, Stella." Her short leg kicked out at the wall the vanity was mounted on. Stella tugged on the lock she was twisting.

"Stop." The sun fairy levitated a thin toothed comb into her hand and let down the mess of braids and twists from atop Musa's head, erasing her work with precise lines. She smiled cockily. "You're going, Musa. You're going to wear the dress, you're going to wear the _amazing_ high heels that will make you a _normal _height for once, you're going to look _gorgeous_, and you're going to blow Riven away when you two share a slow, romantic dance under the dimming lights of the Sol—er…Alfea ballroom."

"You're confusing that fantasy with yours of Brandon. This is _Riven_, Stella. You say 'blow' around him and he gets the wrong idea." Musa rolled her eyes. "He doesn't _do_ romantic." Her arms crossed and she slunk back against the seat, making Stella frown. "Even if he _did_, I told you—there's nothing in hell or floating in the river Styx that can make me dance with that arrogant bastard."

_Nothing_. _Really._

Stella sighed and rolled her eyes. "You like him, Musa. Own up to it. And hand me that." Musa passed her a small bowl of clear glaze, eyeing it warily.

"What's that?"

Stella started to drip the glaze onto Musa's hair. "It helps hold spells. And you're changing the subject."

"I am not. You told me to pass you the damn stuff…" Musa's eyes went wide. "You're not puttin' that shit in my hair, are you?"

"Musa, shut up. I'm trying to concentrate. Your relationship isn't going to happen without work. You're acting like a petulant child."

_Petulant_? _Child_? "You're kidding right?" Since when did Stella's vocabulary even extend to words like petulant? Musa pulled away from Stella and whipped her head around. Stella's eyes bugged out and she made a face similar to that she'd made the last time she'd confronted a witch and ended up slammed against the wall by her throat.

"MUSA!"

Musa ripped the bowl from Stella's hand and stood up briskly.

"Look, Stella, I don't even want to go. Spring formal's always the same: uptight, boring, dull, boring…boring." Her teeth pulled at her lip. The bowl made the eerie sound of glass scraping against glass in a sharp hit.

"You said that." Stella crossed her arms and her stiletto shoe tapped urgently against the floor. Her hips cocked to the side, the slit riding up even farther as she tried to look intimidating. "We both know this isn't about the conformity of Alfea's dances or hair or – hell – even your dress. Your dress that looks _fabulous_ on you, even if you don't think that salmon—whoever decided to go past their mental issues and name it after a fish was insane—is your colour." Stella shook her head to reset her focus. "So what is it about?"

It was about the fact that Riven's training sessions that had been progressing for several weeks were slowly driving her to act on impulses that she'd spent years—three years—trying to drown in their own tears. All ruined of course, but that didn't mean she was going to give up trying to keep them from happening.

Musa smirked. "You know me too well, Stells." She sighed, her deep blue eyes too wide and amused to be sincere. "It's about the shoes." She wiped a fake tear from her cheek.

Stella fumed.

°·

Darcy smiled wickedly in the dark, her long talon-like nails trailing behind her on each tree trunk they passed. Icy gritted her teeth, baring her face to the pouring skies. Sparks and rain bounced off the light skin, reflecting in her pale eyes as she followed at a fair distance behind her taller sister.

Make-up and an even thicker layer of spells and hexes kept the lethal raindrops from even grazing against the dark witch's skin. But it was so natural she didn't even notice.

"I have to say, Icy, I missed this. You, me, bar fights, ice daggers, spells. Casting illusions over the poor fucker's minds so they can feel the pierce of the blade before they even know they're about to die…" She flexed her claws. "Mmm, the feeling of flesh turn cold in my hands." Her golden eyes rolled back in ecstasy and her sharp teeth appeared through thin lips. "This was exactly the therapy I needed after hearing you bitch and moan for a year and having to _pretend_ to care so you wouldn't _sob_. Damn, talk about hell." She cackled.

Icy said nothing, but she no longer stared at the butterflies and dragons in the night clouds. Her veins burned, her hands itched with the blood she'd just spilt. Before her, Darcy looked more like a spindly shadow demon than a powerful bloodthirsty witch. And she couldn't tell which image was more alarming—the reality or the hallucination-induced imagery her mind had come up with.

The bartender hadn't been evil. At the time, she'd just been at the wrong place (her own place) at the wrong time and decided to show the wrong affection for her young son. And at the time it'd bothered Icy, disgusted her even. But now that the children and the faceless zombies were skipping down the path swinging their interlaced hands with hers, she didn't hate the woman. She missed her smiling warmth.

"—are you even still listening?" Darcy stopped in front of Icy, who hadn't even realized she'd stopped, towering seven inches in her five inch heels over Icy's six-foot frame. Icy had lost her boots somewhere back in the swamp after Stormy's wedding.

Stormy's wedding—

"Icy!?"

The blood. The shattering needles of ice. The shock. The horror.

The screaming.

"Icy, focus!"

The snow-witch wheezed out a strangled, hoarse cough.

People scattered, viewing her with differing levels of hatred, anger, disdain, fear, respect, and lust.

The earsplitting ring as her nails trailed across the ice coffin she'd enveloped the groom in.

Stormy's face as she'd sunk to the floor with the realization that her husband's severed head was lying on the floor.

Icy laughing—

No, she was coughing. Deep, lung wrenching coughs from somewhere in her core that made her bend at the waist, made her knees and shins lose all feeling and her ankles shoot with pain. She fell to the muddy ground, dragging her hands through the sludge, trying to get a grasp on her own body, to still it. Horrible sounds dragged from her throat.

As did at least a pint of her deep red blood.

°·

Stella had been right. _Salmon_, no matter how mundane the name, was a colour that complimented every part of Musa, from her lightly flushed porcelain skin to her sapphire hair and eyes. The dress, though simply cut with delicate straps and a flowing waistline, made her stand out in a crowd, even allowing for her friends on either side of her, Stella with a plunging neckline and slit up to her hip or Flora's strapless barely brushing her knees.

Though, that may just have been Riven's opinion.

Or perhaps she stood out because she was the only one in the whole ballroom wearing absolutely _nothing_ on her feet. Nothing. Nada. Nil.

Which appeared to be what Stella was mouthing her out for.

"—and is it really _too much to ask_ for you to wear _heels_ for _one—**one—**night_, Musa?! Just **one** night so we wouldn't have to bend at the knees and show the Fountain-Freshies our asses just for a fucking picture? Besides, do you know how _unsanitary_ it is to walk around without SHOES ON!?"

Musa's head swayed in time with the slow music, yet her knee bounced where she stood, as if she was about to sprint or jump. _Relapse_. After three weeks without any music and then only what the teachers had approved, that was expected.

"—paying attention?! Goddamn, girl! Where's your head?"

Musa slowly turned her gaze to the sunny fairy, her eyes dragging over every face from one wall to her friend. Her mouth dropped open lazily, a quick, exhausted yawn, before she spoke. "I told you I didn't want to come. I didn't want to wear this stupid dress or have this stupid hair or dance to this stupid music or smile for the stupid cameras."

Riven figured that this was not the best time to tell her that he liked her dress and thought she looked nice with her hair pulled back smiling while she swayed to the 'stupid music'.

Stella frowned. "You did all those things, so why couldn't you complete it and just wear the fucking shoes?"

Riven couldn't stop himself from chuckling, which in turn caused daggers to shoot from the two quarreling girls' eyes. Brandon and Sky, each standing behind their girlfriends just outside the fight, seemed to wear matching expressions of terror at Riven's outburst and shook their heads vigorously to deter him.

Musa's eyes flecked from his face to his shoes then back and she rolled her eyes, then turned back to Stella. "Look, Stell, I _hate_ these parties. It's a miracle you people got this much out of me." Her painted lips twisted into a bitter smile that couldn't for the life of her reach her eyes. "Thanks for appreciating that I did this much for _you_ considering…"

With a meaningful look thrown at Stella and an equally meaningful look to Riven, Musa spun on her heel and gracefully sauntered towards one of the many balconies overlooking the garden.

Helia walked up behind Riven, watching as his cousin fled the area. He whistled lowly. "Damn, boy. You're screwed."

"Me?" Riven's eyebrows drew together. "What'd I do?"

A loud scoff drew attention to Stella. "Puh-lease! As if you don't know."

He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. "I don't, _sunshine_, so why don't you fill me in."

A sharp manicured nail—another thing he loved about Musa; she never let her nails grow that long—jabbed him in the chest and he was sure there'd be a welt. Not that it mattered. Stella drew in a sharp breath.

"Look, okay? Whatever complex you have that make you believe it's okay to lead Musa on while your dating another girl—_Darcy_ no less—you need to get it sorted because even though she'd rather die than admit it to anyone, much less herself, Musa's crazy about you for some reason no one, herself included, can figure out."

Riven stepped back, unsure if he should feel complimented or insulted, relieved or horrified at the information. He settled for confused. "What does that even mean?"

The same manicured hand collided with his cheek and Brandon grabbed Stella's arm, pulling him away from the red-faced specialist. Stella's arms were tense. "You fuck with my girl, you fucking pay. Got it?"

°·

Staring out at the stars didn't have the same calming effect on her now as it had when Helia used to drive her away from the schools to see it from the hills overlooking all of Magix. She didn't know if it was because of the anti-music jinx that Faragonda had placed on her for the duration of her grounding or if it was because she could _feel_ the pulsing music from the hall, but either way it wasn't settling her nerves.

Her fingers drummed against the stone ledge, a tempestuous rhythm that she wished above all else she could hear.

Why'd Stella have to start on her like that? It was one thing when they were in their rooms because it wasn't a public showcase, but to do it in the middle of the dance? She knew why Musa was being so stubborn—genetics. One look at Helia…

No, not Helia. Helia had inherited every trait from their mothers' side of the family. She was, unfortunately, all mashed up with her father's brick-wall nature. That and his lack of height to speak of…

Musa rolled her eyes. Damn Stella—just because everyone else in their little winx club was usually over five and a half feet tall (with the exception of Flora who was only an inch or two under that limit) didn't mean that just because Musa was hardly five feet tall…well, it didn't mean she had to wear heels or be taller to be a functioning part of their team. Shit, that was archaic thinking. Something resembling a war that Bloom had mentioned had happened on earth—rebellion because people didn't fit a norm.

She wasn't really mad at Stella. She wasn't really mad at Stella's nagging. She wasn't really mad that Stella made her waste her time coming to a dance that she couldn't enjoy (though no one else knew about the jinx).

She was mad that the only beat she could her was her heart trying to jump out of her mouth when she saw Riven actually _there_ looking for her.

Musa frowned. She didn't like kissing Riven. Really, she didn't. She found it downright disgusting and vile and…

"Hey, babe."

Musa's eyes snapped up; hardened. Just what fucked up dream did he fish the notion that it was okay to call her that from?

"Just what fucked up dream did you fish the notion that it's okay to call me that from?"

Riven chuckled. "Whatever, Muse. You owe me a dance, baby."

"Yeah?" Musa hitched her skirt up and jumped back to sit on the ledge. Her ankles hooked around the pillars. "Says who? You dance with me every night, isn't that enough?"

Riven was getting much too close to her for comfort. His hands slid effortlessly onto either side of her on the railing and he bent his head down close to hers so that when he breathed, his breath fanned out across her cheeks. Cheeks that flushed more and more with every passing second.

"Who ever said it was _that_ sort of dancing?"

Musa's breath caught in her throat. Her blue eyes widened, illuminated by the lights inside. Stella'd be pissed if she knew she was allowing her hair to get even slightly wet (as it was, it was getting soaked). But That was the last thought on her mind.

"You—you—"

Riven's mouth fluttered across Musa's jaw. "You said that."

Musa's hands went up to his shirt, with every intention to push him away. She grabbed his collar. And his lips crushed against hers. She couldn't even find it in her to protest.

SO much for brick-wall disposition.

°·

Golden eyes took in the scene with fury matched only by hell's marksman.

Royally painted nails dug into the unconscious body next to her.

Blood dripped from the welts the nails left.

"Fucking. No."

* * *

**So there's it is. Chapter 10. Kinda weak...but still there. it short. but like musa said, short doens't mean any less important.**

**I'll try to get out the next chapter within this year. Thanks for your patience.**

**Reviews would be adored. Je t'adore (A's remember!?)**

**xxEcho.**


	12. Chapter 11

**Author: .Forever Frozen. aka Annabella West aka Echo**

**Disclaimer: Don't own winx club.**

**Pairing: MusaxRiven. Mentions of StormyxBishop**

**Rated T for language and the death that seems to sugarcoat this story**

**Some of this chapter's going to look quite familiar... Okay, i'm only anticipating one or two more chapters at most so...sobs for the ending that is nigh (whoa, nigh?). Go back and read chapter 10 (11) if you didn't get the alert before you read this. Merci, lovelies :)**

**Thanks for the reviews.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven.**

**_The fourth wave: Pain._**

_Two seconds into the door after the funeral that nearly ripped her to shreds, Musa watched her life fall apart farther. _

_It was sunk against the wall, back behind that strangely coloured sofa, that she watched it like watching a movie. A movie that hurt, that you could feel. A movie that had tears streaming down your face before the lights dimmed._

_Her father slipped the black jacket from his shoulders, tossing it across the arm of his favourite chair, and then slipped his shoes from his feet. After that he simply stood there a moment, staring up out the window into the dusk with his large hand breezing through his greying hair. That was when she sunk back against the wall, out of sight; out of mind._

_Her father didn't even realize she was still in the room._

_It was muted at first, dulled by the fog cast by losing her mother in such a final way. Her father's movements were languid and drawn out, more precise and tired than any that followed._

_Then, about the same time she realized what was happening, it started._

_Small things first; music books, papers and notes. Ripped to shreds and strewn away. But then it happened._

_She cringed as the guitar's neck was snapped, gasped when he slammed his fist against the keys of their piano, once a comfort. The table was overturned briskly. Tears poured out of her eyes and sobs escaped her lips._

_Musa didn't know how long it was then until her father calmed. It was definitely no short time until he sank back into his armchair, one hand covering his eyes as he shook with tears._

_Musa doubled over onto the ground, holding her stomach with extreme pressure to try to dull the ache._

_Her eyes burned. She looked up to the destroyed room, taking in everything that was destroyed. The destroyed music._

"_Look what you've done to us, mom." She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it away. Her father's opened, realizing for the first time since his tantrum that he was not alone—guilty._

_Musa sobbed—"you've ruined us."_

°·

"You're not even trying," Riven growled. Musa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Truth was she wasn't trying—she didn't want to try. They'd been sparring together for two weeks and her 'trying' only led to bad, bad, _bad, **bad**_ things. Very bad.

Why the hell did Helia think it was okay to leave them alone?

"So then let me go home."

Home. Is that what she was calling it now? Prison was more like it—Faragonda had _finally_ consented to take off the anti-music jinx, but Techna had taken it upon herself to quarantine all music players in the girls' suite and _not_ tell them where they were hidden. Which left Musa only one release for her frustration—Riven. Sparring, arguing, or kissing…

It pained her to realize that right now, _he_ was her _home_.

"You can leave when you actually try."

Musa hummed deep in her throat—an attempted growl—and reveled in the vibration, as close to her addiction as she could come these days. She blew a lock of her bangs from her sweat-sheeted forehead. A few more misdirected jabs, a few more dead-end kicks, a few more blocked dodges. She'd tried to confuse him and rush past him to the door, only to result in one ultimate ending.

He had her pinned. Again.

Come to think of it, neither of them could remember a single training session that didn't end with him pressed up against her in one form or another.

Musa turned her face away from him as he lowered his lips to her jaw, tenderly dragging along to her chin. His hair tickled her cheek.

It seemed that actions didn't get through to him. "You goin' soft on us here, Riven?" It was meant to sound taunting. She'd wanted to say it that way, but instead it came out whispered and confused. Her voice shook and her hands pressed against his shoulders weakly, wanting to shove him off.

Riven hardly noticed. "What do you mean?" he mumbled against her neck, tongue tracing lazy lines. It was gentle—too gentle. _Sweet, _loving.

Musa shoved him away from her and pulled on her oversized shirt and her tennis shoes. She ran from the training room, to the balcony courtyard. It was raining there and she was shivering—and Riven had followed her.

His hand gripped her shoulder and he raced in front of her, stopping her from running further. "Why are you acting so weird?"

"Weird?" Her mouth gaped open. "Are you serious?"

Judging by his face, he was.

She laughed bitterly. "You _honestly_ think that I _want _this? To be the _'other woman'_ to a soulless bitch of darkness like _Darcy_? You don't even _like_ me and we can't get along for even a moment and you're asking me why I'm being _weird_ because I don't want to make out with you?"

Riven winced. She didn't get it—he couldn't explain it, not with his pride as steadfast as he made it. "That's not fair, Muse—"

"**Don't** call me Muse." Musa yanked her arm away from him and backed up to the railing, her heart racing and eyes hard. "Riven, what's not fair is _you_. You need to figure out who the fuck you are—because I can't figure it out and I'm a bloody _empath_."

She shook away the cold, and as quietly as she could (being a fairy of music), she allowed her wings to burst through her skin. It wasn't a skill that was easily learned—being able to fly while not transformed, but she had learned. Her mother had wanted her to, and despite her father's wishes, she'd become quite skilled at it.

Riven gawked—he hadn't even known that was possible.

Musa climbed up onto the rail, testing it with the balls of her feet and staring over her shoulder down at the long drop that she _hoped_ her wings would be able to handle even in their half-healed state.

She sized him up, reading the emotion flitting across his face through the haze of the rain. Confusion, fear, insecurity, betrayal—all emotions she'd never once imagine would be paired with the gruff, egotistical hero.

_Ignore it, Muse_.

Fuck—she was calling _herself_ by the nickname he'd given her?

Right, time to flee. "Goodbye."

One way or another, she was staying away. She'd make sure of that.

°·

Darcy realized that more often than not these days she could be found walking through the forest in the rain, listening to only the slick sticking and pulling of her shoes and the storm. A week ago, she would have complained that Icy was so quiet. Because after the wedding she thought she was back—she thought she'd have Icy again.

Now she would only complain that Icy was much heavier than anyone would have thought. Sure she was tall (an inch less than six feet tall) but the girl was rail thin. Carrying her around like dead weight wasn't any fun—her feet kept dragging behind them and Darcy would have to stop and kick them forward.

Fucking Icy. She just _had_ to pick then to curl up on the ground and hack the blood out of her lungs and then pass out.

"Fucking crackwhore…bitch…goddamn sl—" Darcy groaned and dropped Icy's body into the muddy ground. The ice witch was soaked and her skin was a shade more grey and pale than usual, yet in the dim light it sparkled elegantly.

Darcy slammed her foot into Icy's ribs. Icy didn't move, didn't wince; didn't budge.

"You fucking whore." At this point Darcy thought it would have been better if she _was_ a whore.

"I swear to you Icy, I swear on your grave, one day…you're going to be sorry for this. You're going to be sorry that you went and lost your sanity; that you turned into a pansy-assed bitch who couldn't think for her own fucking self. Someone's going to pay for it and it won't be me."

Darcy threw down an energy ball at Icy's face, swelling with sick anticipation as the smell of scorched flesh reached her nose.

Icy didn't move.

Icy didn't breathe.

°·

Dragging herself from her bed, Stormy stopped briefly in front of the mirror in her hallway. Her frizzy hair was sticking up in too many directions to be healthy and her face was in desperate need of a washing—well, to be honest, all of her was. Not that she was completely unhygienic, she just…hadn't had the heart to move the last week…

She tripped over an empty box of Chinese takeout. When did that get there?

The knock on her apartment door sounded again. Stormy pulled a hand through her violet mane, huffing. She didn't want to talk to anyone.

Staring into the mirror, she ran her hand down to her stomach, beginning to protrude slightly—four months. In five months, she would be a mother. Stormy would be a mother, Bishop would be a father, and they'd all be a great happy family living peacefully despite her troubled past.

Yeah, and Darcy and Icy would realize that they were secretly pacifists who worshipped the ground her husband walked on and they were going to call any day now to tell her how great it was that she got married and that they were going off to chase rainbows while teaching children ballet in a hippie commune. Uh huh, likely.

She was crying again.

Stormy walked sluggishly to her freezer, talking out her favourite flavour of ice cream—chocolate fudge and peanut butter. So it was a guilty pleasure but fuck it she was pregnant and her husband was fucking decapitated by her sister on her wedding day and she was sad. Hell, sad didn't even cover it.

Bishop's wedding ring lay on the kitchen island, staring at her coldly.

The door pounded again. Stormy drew her eyes up from her scraped knees to stare at is as the infernal pounding continued.

Her feet seemed to move on auto pilot. Her left hand, wedding band and diamond ring securely on her third finger, fanned over her stomach and her right hand twisted the doorknob.

The lightning flashed behind the two looming figures, the shorter of the two limply held up by the other, her white hair completely covering her face.

Darcy smiled sinisterly, her golden eyes glowing from the dim light of the apartment. "Didn't have time to deliver my wedding present before." She pushed Icy into her and Stormy just barely caught her 'sister', stumbling backwards. Darcy stepped back and faded back into the dark. She laughed—"Congradulations. Now I've got a boyfriend to go see."

Stormy's brows drew together and she glanced down at Icy, her pale blue eyes lolled back into her head, small trickles of blood spilling from the corners of her eyes and mouth.

She had no pulse.

Stormy screamed and dropped the body in surprise, stumbling over an armchair in her haste to get away. Her head collided with the edge of a coffee table.

°·

Musa was sure they were asleep by now.

Flora, for a change, had been the last to leave her alone. Stella, from lack of the sun, had been completely knocked out with a fever and chills for three days straight. Flora seemed to be the only one still calm despite the storm and Musa no longer flattered herself by saying it hadn't affected her at all.

It wasn't as much fun sneaking out when everyone was asleep but it was still against the rules and it still got her out of there.

She walked over to the huge glass window at the far end of the suite and unlatched it, sticking her hand out to measure the degree of rain. It was lessening up somewhat, enough that there'd be a decent turn out at her favourite nightclub in Magix—since the inter-realm transporters were down with interference from the storm.

Musa actually thanked her bad luck that Riven was training her—it made her more quick minded and she had no problem scaling down the wall in the dark. Added to her specially attuned senses, it was a breeze.

Getting off the grounds was a whole other story. Because standing right inside the gate was her not-so-knightly specialist in shining leather—shining from the rain. She was starting to think he was semi-aquatic with all the time he spent in the water.

"Why are you here?" She pulled her jacket tighter around her, trying to keep out the cold rain, but it was all in vain. She was completely drenched from head to foot, dripping, and from the looks of it he wasn't fairing any better.

"Why are you?"

She couldn't believe him. "Gee, I don't know, maybe—I_ live_ here, dumbass!"

He smirked, bemused. "You live under a tree? And here I was, mistaken that Flora was the one with the nature complex."

She flexed her fists and glared at him. "Did you come out here just to throw jibes at me and my girls?"

"No." Still wearing that incredibly smug smirk that was ever present on his face (when there was no scowl, that is), Riven stepped closer to the tiny blue-haired fairy. Musa glared at him, but somehow her bouncing foot pointed that she was no real threat. Why, she wondered, did tonight have to be her breaking point?

"Leave," she hissed, her teeth chattering together. The last time she'd seen him, she'd promised herself she never would again. And now, here he was, breaking that promise. She almost didn't seem to mind, seeing the way his dark magenta hair was falling in his face, drenched with rain, seeing the dangerous glint in his violet eyes. His shirt, as well, was skin tight against his muscled torso and she wanted nothing more than to jump him—err, make him leave. She meant she wanted nothing more than for him to…leave. Yes, leave.

"Are you going to make me?" He was dangerously close to her now. She leaned up to him, as if to kiss him, but then spun around and stomped away. Five steps, then she turned back. Riven watched, bemused, as she shook her hands out and her knee bounced. Her eyes were wide and they looked anywhere but at him. He chuckled. "Withdrawal?"

"Shut it." He was right…

Riven held up a thin chord, headphones, and swung them around with a grin, mocking her. Ever since Techna had hidden her music players, she would do anything for _music_.

Anything.

Musa's mouth fell open and she stared and without accord her feet moved forward slowly. Only one thing was running through her mind—Riven.

No, _music_! Not Riven…

With each step she took towards him, towards her fix, he backed up slowly enough for her to not notice and grinned wider—enough that one who didn't know him might mistake the emotion show for a smile.

"Do you want it, Muse?"

At the use of the nickname, Musa halted. Just earlier that day she'd told him not to call her that. She realized what he was doing. Her eyes widened and she shakily stepped back, her muscles tight in resistance. Her voice shook as much as she and he could see the want in her eyes. "N-no."

He considered it for a moment. "Too bad." He stowed the music player in the back pocket of his jeans, and with a wink in her direction, slowly walked towards his bike.

Musa was conflicted. Here she was, presented a fix for her addiction—well, two addictions—from which she was estranged from at Alfea, so her problem arose; take it, or go inside out of the rain? Thunder split the sky above Cloud Tower, and sent light cascading over the entire grounds. She saw every line in Riven's back, every stream of water that hit his face.

She needed it.

There was nothing healthy about either of her vices. Nothing at all.

Riven felt her behind him, coming closer. He could feel the heat from her body, and hear her soft breath. As a hero, he was trained to do this. But it was more than that—he could smell the soft scent of her hair, of her subtle perfume. He could hear the inaudible humming that was always present when she was around, like tiny wings against still air. The fabric of her jacket rustled as she reached her hand out and…

He caught her wrist without even looking at her just before she grabbed the device from his pocket. She froze, still as a statue, and a strangled whimper escaped from her throat. Riven couldn't hold back his grin. He had her exactly where he wanted her.

Musa's throat constricted and her tongue ran across her teeth. She was shivering still, but this time not from the rain. With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, he turned to face her, an alarmingly hungry glint in his eyes.

She felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Just one song?" She stared up at him, her deep blue eyes wide and pained.

He smiled, a wicked smile that sent shivers—non cold related—down her spine. "No." And then his lips crashed onto hers, not gentle in the least. It was his way of showing her, as he had wanted to earlier, that there was more to him than she realized. Because he couldn't say the words he wanted to. He pulled her against him, and without a second thought, her legs wrapped around his waist. She wanted to be closer to him, as close as she could be, yet at the same time, flashing red lights were going off in her head.

'Stop this, Musa,' her subconscious was screaming. Musa knew she should—knew nothing good (nothing good at all) would come from this. What was it, just another quick fix?

She wanted to say yes…but her denial was long lived and coming to an end. She'd gone through every wave of denial that Stella had lectured her about—anger, depression, repression, indulgence, withdrawal—and now that she was here, in the unceasing rain, she realized it.

"FUCK."

Riven chuckled against her mouth. "If that's what you want I've got no problem with it."

"NO!" She unlatched her legs from his waist, lessened her hold on his neck. He still held her against him even as she tried to push him away. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"What, Muse?" His hand brushed over her cheek, wiping the hair from her face.

She smacked him. "Stop it you fucking jackass. You're dating _Darcy_. You _love_ her…how…" Musa ran a hand over her face, pressing it against her eyes. She was trying to put the hot tears back in her eyes. "You can't keep doing this to me, Riven. You can't keep doing this because I can't keep pretending that it doesn't kill me."

Riven pulled her to his chest and his lips pressed against the crown of her head.

* * *

**So, that's the end of Chapter 11! Please review and i'll try to have the next chapter written and up soon. ****À Bientôt!**

**xxEcho**

**P.S. I re-uploaded all the chapters up to this one. I didn't have the original copy (i left my fucking USB in my class....EEH!!!) so not much is different, but on teh original i've done a lot of editing. When and IF i get my USB back, i'll replace teh chapters that are changed. My computer has a ton of viruses right now and no protection, so for now what you see is what you get. I'm almost done with chapter 12. Hold in there!**


	13. Chapter 12

**Author: Forever Frozen aka Annabella West**

**Disclaimer: Don't own winx. Do own creative rights to this story, as long as we're clear with that first part.**

**Warning: Language, hints at sexual situations, some violence (i'm not good at writing either)**

**Pairing: Musa/Riven**

**Here's one of the last chapters, as promised. It wasn't too long of a wait. I'm debating perhaps doing a sequel--maybe--but that's only if this story ends one way. Sequels never end up as good as the first, though, and i want to keep this one on a good note. Lemme know your thoughts on sequel vs. none.**

**Enjoy. It's got flaws, but i haven't slept in three days.**

* * *

**Chapter 12.**

_**The fifth wave: Rage.**_

Musa rolled onto her back and stretched her arms above her head. Her toes curled down and her eyes squeezed shut tight. When she opened her eyes, she knew exactly where she was despite the absolute lack of light in the room. She was only half surprised to see the clock missing from the bedside shelf. Musa sighed.

For the first time in months, since the storm had begun, Musa could remember vividly the occurrences of her life even after her back hit the mattress. She could remember every second of her night and for the first time she wished that all of it—the shower, the floor, the wall, the bed—was just a dream.

Riven's arm was around her naked waist and Musa wouldn't breathe right until it was off. She squirmed away from him towards the edge of the bed, but his arm still weighed down her body. Musa rolled her eyes back in frustration. She didn't have the patience or self control for this. With all her might, Musa wrenched his arm off of her and pushed it back away from her. She sprung out of his bed faster than a bullet leaving a gun.

Riven groaned lethargically. Musa glared without chancing a glance in his direction; if she saw even another glimpse of the tattoo on his shoulder she wouldn't leave. If she didn't leave _now_, she'd end up killing something.

Musa nearly screamed in frustration; even after looking, searching, the whole room with extreme persistence (and not bothering to keep her noise down), Musa couldn't find any of her clothes. Not even a shoe.

She could feel when Riven awoke and his eyes, blinking away the sleep, focused on her. She could hear the rustle of sheets and his breathing change (she hated that part of her powers because it always made her feel like a stalker even if _she_ was the one being watched). Musa could feel his eyes on her when she pulled open Helia's drawer and pulled out a long-sleeved shirt.

"Where are you going?" Riven asked, his voice deeper than usual in the fog of the morning. Musa pulled the light shirt over her head and rolled up the sleeves, trying her best to ignore the man behind her even as he rose from his bed and wrapped her in his arms. She bit her tongue to keep her mind clear.

Musa jolted out of reach. "Don't you fucking touch me." She brushed her messy hair away from her face and pushed away from Riven, looking innocent and sincere. Musa really needed him to really wake up soon before she jumped him. Musa shook her head, clearing her confused thoughts, and struggled to convince herself that the rising blood had more to do with her fury than any sort of embarrassment.

Riven reached out and placed a soft hand on her shoulder as he leaned in and kissed the spot just below her ear. Musa's legs shook. She closed her eyes and her fists clenched as she tilted her head down.

"If you don't get your hand off me right now, Riven, you're going to lose it." Riven stilled and slowly pulled back from her with awareness clearing in his confused eyes. She saw his face fall from a sweet smirk to the emotionless mask of a renowned warrior. Musa pulled the string of Helia's shirt tight around her waist, fashioning a sort of dress, and shook her head. "I can't look at you right now."

His eyes tightened and Riven stood straighter. Musa thought he was going to say something so she quickly shrugged past him and slammed the door behind her. She wasn't going to wait in there for one of them to reach their breaking point. She knew that that would only go one of two ways—either they'd both end up on the brink of death or they'd end up repeating what had happened last night. Musa didn't think she could handle either, despite the burning in her stomach that assured her she wouldn't mind.

She turned away from the imposing door and jumped at the sight of Brandon sitting in a chair with her clothes and shoes in a neat pile on the table next to him. He raised an eyebrow at her and Musa could tell that his smirk was due to the minimal amusement he felt beneath his conflicted emotions.

"What?" she snapped as she shifted on her feet to keep from bolting for the door.

Brandon shook his head and pursed his lips. "Interesting walk of shame you've got going on there. It's louder than most."

Musa's jaw tensed. "Shut the hell up, Brandon. I'm not in the mood for a fucking lecture from you." She stomped over to the table and Brandon held out the pile of her clothes silently and she practically yanked them from his hands. Musa jammed her feet into the oversized sneakers and her feet hit the ground with a thud.

He shook his head. "Your clothes were all over so I picked them up for you so that Helia wouldn't freak out when he gets back." Brandon stood up and reached into his pocket, producing a single key. "I'm not going to lecture you, Musa, because it's not my place." He pressed the key into her palm and shook his head. "I'm just not sure what to say to you. And it worries me." Brandon threw an arm around her shoulder and squeezed gently. "I wish there was some way I could help you because whatever you're going through is really messing with your head."

Musa nodded slowly then pulled away from him. "I don't need your help, Brandon. Nothing's wrong." She glared at his ear, unable to meet his eye.

"That's what we call denial, my friend." Brandon lent back against the table leisurely even though he was pressed to do something in some way. Musa was as much as a sister to him as she was to Stella and she was, Brandon could tell, getting to a point of no return. He didn't want to lose her or Riven but they were both tearing themselves—and each other—apart. "It's not a good place to be."

"And what would you know of it, Brandon?" Her blue eyes narrowed at him in an all-to-familiar expression that was a dangerous warning. With each word her voice gained volume. "What would you know of being so ashamed of something that you have to deny it to yourself and everyone else?" She laughed bitterly. "I've never been ashamed of anything in my life until recently."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of being in love."

Musa balked and stepped back away from him. "I'm fucking _not_ in love, Brandon. Love doesn't work this way. How could I be in love with _him_!?" She waved her hand at Riven's door in offense. "Tell me how? Tell me _**why**_ for fuck's sake, dammit!" Her chin quivered as she tried not to scream or cry. Musa took a deep breath. "Tell me why, Brandon. Because I can't…I can't figure it out."

Brandon didn't say anything. He didn't think he could even if he knew what to say. The brunette's mouth opened and then he closed it; he couldn't afford to say anything at this point because no matter what he'd say, he'd end up regretting it. Brandon shook his head.

The door to the boy's room opened and Helia walked in, looking happy as ever before in a wet tunic with his hair matted against his face. "Hey Brandon," he called out, spotting his fellow specialist first. The second his eyes fell on Musa, his smile faded. "Musa, what are you doing here?"

Musa looked up at Brandon and then at her cousin. She shook her head and pulled her clothes tightly against her chest, Brandon's key in her hand. "Fucking can't do this right now," she muttered loudly to herself, loudly enough that even her cousin could hear. She walked as quickly as she could but Helia threw his hand across the doorframe to stop her. She looked up at him through hazy eyelashes, her teeth chattering in time with her nervous heart.

"Musa, what's going on?" Helia looked over to Brandon for help, but he just turned away. He looked down at Musa. "Why are you over here dressed like—?"

Riven stepped out of his room in only his boxers and Helia froze, his neck strained. The magenta-haired specialist's eyes zeroed in on the blue fairy. Helia pulled his laser glove on and tightened the strap.

"Fuck no," Helia cursed, his eyes flashing red with fury.

Riven opened his mouth and Musa cursed the day that he learned to talk. "Musa—"

"I don't fucking want to talk to you," Musa nearly screamed. She screwed her eyes shut and shoved Helia's arm out of the doorway. "Neither of you."

Musa held the clothes so tightly she thought they might rip as she started her way down the hall. Musa was hardly even a room away when she heard Helia start to yell and she winced.

"_What the fuck did you do to my cousin!"_

Musa's eyes went wide and she pushed for the door with the key in her hand burning against her skin.

**°·**

Techna knocked on Layla's door first. Layla and Musa had been the last ones awake last night, watching some old-fashioned Earth-style of a gore film. She figured if anyone knew where Musa was, it would be Layla or Stella.

Layla opened her door completely dressed with her hair looking like she'd made a potions experiment completely wrong. Layla looked calmer than she had the past week though, or at least as calm as she ever was. She also had bags under her eyes and she was frowning as usual.

"What's up Tech?" Layla asked flatly. She, for some reason, was still angry as hell and ready to fly off the handle at something anyone said. She felt tense and weak and she really hoped that Techna wasn't there to lecture her about skipping all of her afternoon classes yesterday.

Techna's pink eyebrows drew together in concern. "You don't look too well," she stated without any underlying animosity. She'd just stated what everyone else could see.

Layla's nostrils flared. "Do I look like I give a fuck if I don't _look well_, Techna?" She slammed the door in Techna's face.

Techna took a surprised step back and frowned. She hadn't meant to offend her. Techna was seriously beginning to worry over why Layla was being so temperamental.

She knocked again, this time a good two feet away from the door. Layla groaned and flung the door back, knocking it against the wall. "What!? If you're going to insult me then just forget about it, alright?!"

Techna frowned. "I didn't mean for it to sound that way; I'm sorry." Techna fiddled with one of Musa's music players, manually rewiring parts of it that weren't fixed by magic. She sighed in frustration. "Have you seen Musa? She wasn't in her room last night and I've looked all over campus; I can't find her anywhere."

Layla frowned. "I haven't seen her." She closed her door behind her. "What about Stella?"

"I was just about to ask her." The two fairies walked over to Stella's room and opened the door. Stella was lying in her bed, her golden hair fanned out over her sheets, and a bright orange eye-mask covered her face.

"Stella," Layla said loudly, jostling her. "Wake up."

Stella whined and moved the mask away from her face. Her honey eyes opened slowly and settled on Layla's face…and she screamed. Layla jumped back and Stella dove at her, pulling her hair. Techna pulled the blonde away.

Layla brushed her hair out and her fists settled at her side. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Stella!?"

Stella yawned daintily and shrugged. "Sorry, Layla, I thought something was attacking your head." She pulled on her silky white robe and brushed her hair back. "I was only trying to save my friend from a painful death." She said it with such cavalier that even Techna groaned at the fake sugar behind it.

Layla's teeth were clenched so tightly they made a grinding noise. "Why you—"

Stella wagged a finger. "Now now," she scolded, "you're going to get an awful nasty overbite if you keep that up." She walked over and jabbed a finger into Layla's forehead. "Ooh, horrid wrinkles too. They're already starting to show."

Layla jerked at Stella and Techna stepped in between the two princesses. "That's enough, both of you."

Stella shook her head. "I'm just trying to help a friend stay young. Anyone would do it."

Techna pushed Layla back towards the window. "Stella, have you seen Musa?"

Stella suddenly sobered up. "No." She darted to her vanity table and scrolled pressed buttons madly. "Wait a minute…" She rubbed her eyes and looked down at the screen. "Brandon said that—"

Layla cut her off. "Holy shit, you guys, check this out." She waved the two tall girls over towards the window and pointed out into the dreary morning. The storm, less intense as before, had picked up exponentially in the last three minutes and right in the middle of it (where the girls knew Red Fountain to be) was a blindingly bright patch of light.

Stella knew that light, despite how rare it was ever shown. She'd been the one that helped Musa perfect it. Her eloquence was gone. "Oh fucking shit…"

**°·**

Musa was a glutton for punishment—she'd never been _this _bad about it before though. Every step she took, she kept pushing herself farther. At one point she nearly turned around to _apologize_. _**Apologize!**_ As if. Once she'd gotten on the ground it was a little better…until she came to the bike that Brandon had given her the key to. It was parked right next to Riven's…and she just barely resisted keying the damn thing.

So what if he could drive it without hands or eyes? That was hardly a skill—it was called autopilot and even people on Earth knew how to use it. It didn't mean he was any better than anyone else.

Musa dropped the key and her clothes onto Brandon's seat. She couldn't take the bike now; she had too much on her mind and she needed to vent. For Musa, venting was done best in an isolated area without anyone in the direct area. Things didn't always end up pretty. Musa still didn't think Bloom had forgiven her for the time she'd accidently made the red-head go deaf for a week; Bloom should have known better. The rest of Alfea and most of Red Fountain did.

Musa closed her eyes as she walked down the path. Her head pounded without any music to fill her clouded thoughts. She wanted to blame the headache on something like a hangover—but not only did fairies burn the effects of alcohol faster than anyone else, but Musa knew for a fact that she hadn't had a drop of any since Stella's party that summer.

The storm was different today. It fell in sheets with more intensity than it had before, as if each seeming drop had a wrong personally done against it and revenge was the magic that it held. The sparking was more violent, with louder cracks and harsher colours. Musa only remembered something like this once before; the day after her mother's funeral. The burst of energy and dark magic, at the time, had been on a day brighter than the Harmonic Nebula had seen in almost a year and she remembered it because of that.

Her fists tightened at her side and Musa felt the pressure settled between her chest and her throat being channeled out from her fists. She looked down at her hands and sighed when she saw the fading blue light. She sighed. Musa hated losing control like this; it made her feel so weak. She clenched at the hem of Helia's shirt. She wasn't used to depending on her cousin this much.

Musa heard a sinking sound and before she realized what was happening. A sharp burst of energy pierced her back and Musa fell to her knees in the mud. She spun around. "What the fuck!"

Darcy's face wore a mangled smile. "Hey princess. Long time no see."

Musa pushed herself to her feet, brushing the mud from her pale legs. "Darcy, you'd better fucking piss off today. I'm not going to take your shit." She shook her head and turned away from the witch.

Darcy lifted her hand and dark orbs flew out towards Musa. Each orb worked like a separate small vortex, pulling at her hands with a painful strain. Musa's arms tensed as she tried to resist it.

Darcy stepped closer, looking like a drenched cat with too much eyeliner. "That's precious, Musey." Musa growled. "Aw, don't be angry." Darcy's golden eyes narrowed. "You stole from me, Musa."

"I never stole anything from you. I wouldn't risk the disease." Musa's elbows were turned the wrong way, pointed inward while her wrists were far out to her side. It hurt, but she needed to break free. Her teeth ground together as she growled. Even moving her feet, trying to run away, didn't help her at all.

"You stole my fame; you stole my sister, my pathetic excuse for a sister, and you stole my boyfriend."

"I never pegged you to be this petty." Musa's anger flowed towards her fingertips, gathering in her trapped hands. There'd be a hell of an aftershock when she got out and Musa could only think of one person she'd rather have there to be on the receiving end of it.

"I don't like being stolen from, Musey. I'm here for revenge." Darcy's hands shimmered with a sickly violet. "And I'll start by taking back my boyfriend."

"I got news for you, bitch." Musa, with an empty scream of frustration, ripped her hands from the shackles of Darcy's magic. The magic that had been pouring to her reach bound out, carrying out her fury with a blinding shockwave that left Darcy shaking and being knocked back several feet. The light from her burst echoed through the forest, illuminating even the darkest cloud, leaving the path a harsh white void.

Musa's nose dripped with her blood and her head throbbed from the exertion. "I don't want him." Musa's voice broke as the words escaped her throat. One day she'd make it true

Darcy's mouth tightened and she rose into the air. "Too bad. I was looking forward to a challenge." Through the bright sky, Darcy's heart blackened everywhere it could reach. "I guess I'll have to make one."

Musa's knees locked when the shadow spread to her, knocking her back. Musa felt herself falling through where the ground should have been and falling more before she finally stopped, suspended by the dark magic.

Darcy's face suddenly illuminated the space all around her, glinting with a vicious rage. "Welcome to my world, Musey," her grisly voice came from each face separately. It created a sickly echo that had Musa feeling ready to wretch. "You won't be leaving any time soon."

Six feet of corporeal Darcy loomed above Musa with blood in her eyes.

Musa groaned internally and dug her nails into her bare legs. "Make my day, bitch. I dare you to try."

* * *

**Well, there it is. Once again, kinda...bleh. I've got plans for these people, though.**

**Leave me some reviews, kiddos! :)**

**xxEcho.**


	14. Chapter 13

**Author: Forever Frozen aka Annabella West**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Winx Club. I did, however, get around to watching the full second and third season...and damn it all, those people need backbones. And Bloom needs a reality check...I kinda think that all the TV show is what she _thinks_ is going on...because she's mentally disturbed and no one should be that fucking much of a fake marytr. That much self-angst can kill a person. And i just have to say, no one who plots to take over the world and almost gets away with it could get away with it when they're as stupid and ditzy as Icy, Darcy, and Stormy are in teh show.**

**Warning: It's 2 am and i'm tired as fuck. Fuck: that's a word used graciously in this chapter. There's also some stuff that may be 'disturbing' because Darcy's a sick whore and she's insane.**

**As a side warning, i'm going to add that i've never been good at writing (and i add the " " s on purpose here) "action"...it always sounds too frilly and pisses me off. But i've been delirious this whole chapter so it is what it is. But it was my attempt at a more realistic (at least as realistic as fairies can get) battle sequence.**

**I love messing with Helia's protective streak.**

**Pairing: some M/R, a little bit of Layla/Ofir...minimaly on both counts.**

**So, here's my toughest chapter yet. I'd love your responses, good or bad. Mostly good though ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 13.**

"Why won't you look at me, Musa?" Matlin knelt before her daughter, her eyes bloodshot and filled with tears. Her hands reached forward towards her, but Musa jerked away.

"Cut it out, Darcy," Musa hissed. Her arms shook by her sides as if she was holding up a great weight. "I know it's you."

Darcy would sink as low as she could to destroy her victims from the inside out. The delicate woman's face spread into a wicked grin, her dark blue eyes churning into a horrid gold.

"Is it because you fucked him, Musa?" The woman disguised as Musa's mother rolled onto her back, her knees bent and spread wide. Her eyes glinted wickedly and her teeth played at her lip as she stared up at Musa. "Is it because you fucked him—and you liked it?" She squirmed, her back arching as she ran her hand up towards her neck. "Over and over and over…You fucked him until you thought your brains would explode and when they didn't you fucked him again." The older woman's golden eyes rolled back in what wanted to be ecstasy, her lips pulling over sharpened teeth that couldn't have been natural. "You fell on your back and writhed like a common whore—_Oh, Riven! Riven! Fuck, harder, Riven! Oh!_"

Darcy's mirthless cackle ripped from Matlin's lips.

"Stop it!" Musa screamed. She ripped at the darkness behind her with clawed hands. "Stop it, you sick bitch." Not wearing her mother's face. Not coming from Darcy.

"Why would I stop?" Darcy's skin crawled across her frame, stretching and growing darker. Her small, lithe body twisted into a taller one. The man stood in front of her as a looming threat rather than the comfort she'd known since she was born. Helia's face smirked. "I'm just getting started."

Musa growled. She focused her hardest—her anger, her fear, her embarrassment—into a single purpose.

"Don't even try." 'Helia's hand rose. Dark flames burst from the witch's fingertips, knocking Musa back through the miserable abyss. Her head crashed with a sickening crack against nothing. Helia's fists strained against his sickly-hued skin and another burst of dark energy split from the air. "Like I said, babe, this is my world. We're going to play in it."

**·**

"This is your fucking fault!" Riven ducked as yet another of Timmy's gadgets was lobbed at his head. Helia looked around the room at the broken furniture and everything else he'd thrown and his nostrils flared.

"Look man—"

Helia turned and his fist slammed through the wall. The room fell silent. Brandon winced as he watched Helia try to pull his hand back from the hole. His fist stuck tightly and all could see the sore red marks. His jaw tensed and he laid his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes.

"What the hell did you _do_?"

Riven, Helia, and Brandon looked up to see Stella, Layla, and Flora stepping through a portal of Stella's magic. Stella, though her eyes were shadowed with deep bruise-like marks and her skin was an ill shade of grey, looked angry enough to kill.

Brandon jumped to his feet.

"Brandon, I'm too angry right now." She shook her head wearily. Stella's legs shook and a light sheen of cold sweat shone on her forehead behind her blonde bangs. She pushed herself from her boyfriend and shakily stormed towards the red-haired specialist. Riven backed up literally into a corner, trying to flee from the vicious fairy.

Stella drew her hand back and slapped Riven as harshly as she could in her feverous state.

"Stella!" Flora ran at her friend and pulled her back away from the hero in training. Stella attempted to pull forward despite the restraint.

"Riven, I warned you—you fuck with my girl; you pay." Her knees quivered and Brandon pulled Stella against his chest. She shivered. "Brandon said you fucked up—and I saw Musa's magic from Alfea even _through_ the weather." Her eyes fluttered in pain and she lifted a fist gently to clutch at Brandon's shirt. "When I have my powers back I'll fucking beat you for it, but for now I just want to know what happened."

Brandon picked Stella up and settled on the couch with her despite her complaints at being touched in her 'state'. Layla rolled her eyes as she leant against the wall as far from Riven as she could manage.

"You're not the only one." Helia grunted and pulled away from the wall. His fist was covered in blood and crumbled plaster. He clutched at the twist of his long hair and sunk down to the floor. "You're a bastard," he hissed.

Flora frowned. Riven shook his head in confusion and Helia glared.

"You fucking promised me you wouldn't try anything, Riven."

Riven smirked. "I didn't start it this time." His cocky attitude never did emerge at appropriate times.

Helia jerked to his feet—"I swear that if you don't shut the hell up—"

"What? Can't take it that your _little cousin_ has dirty little urges?" Riven jibed. He crossed his arms and chuckled. "What's the pacifist going to do to me?" Flora gasped lightly before he realized what was happening.

Riven felt the bite of Helia's laser glove and then he was slammed against the wall. Riven grunted. He barely ducked in time before Helia's bloodied fist missed his face narrowly and collided yet again with the wall. Helia groaned.

"I told you to stay away from her, dammit! And what did you do? You screwed my cousin!" Flora's hand ran across Helia's strained back muscles in what she hoped was a soothing motion. This much disharmony was dangerous. Even the frightened trees were set at unease because of it.

"You guys need to—"

Riven interrupted the flower fairy. "You also told me to _think_ before I did anything."

"Well did you?"

Riven's smirk returned. "Would you take the time to think?" He glanced between Flora and Helia and nodded sarcastically. "Right, obviously not."

Helia jerked towards him again. "You fucking—"

"_That's enough!_" Flora screamed. Her face was red and her eyes were wide. "If I hear one more '_fuck'_ from either of you—_ANY_ of you—then you'll be strung up by your toes from the ceiling and I'll let a _quietus carnivorous_ devour you!" Brandon, who had known Flora the longest, balked in surprise.

Flora huffed. "I'm sick of the two of you arguing—Musa can make her own choices too, Helia. They're not always good choices, but she has a right to choose for herself. You're _not_ her father." Helia's eyes lowered in shame. Riven chuckled, and Flora reared on him. "And you—you…I don't know what to say to you." Flora's hand slapped the same spot that was still red from Stella's.

"Hey," Stella called out tiredly from where she lay draped across Brandon half asleep, "how come you get to slap him?"

"Shut up, Stella, you're not even supposed to be out of bed." Flora turned her attention back to Riven. "I can't believe you would play with Musa's emotions like this, Riven."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the specialist tried to deny, looking everywhere but Flora's hellish green eyes.

"Bullshit." Flora pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm getting sick of the two of you, Riven. You and your games. You're both too damn prideful to admit that you have feelings for Musa to her face and even if you did she wouldn't believe you because you've fucked up too many times already." The small brunette sighed. "I know you care about her, but she's too blind to see it and that's why she's pushing you away."

Riven and Layla rolled their eyes simultaneously, though for separate reasons.

Layla groaned in frustration. "This is fucking pathetic." She slammed her fist against the glass pane of the window where a dark void was in place of Musa's strong magic wave. "You see that?" She jabbed at the light against the cold glass.

Riven shook his head. "So what?"

Layla gaped. "If you took your head out of your own ass for a single second you'd know what that meant." She shook her head, grimacing. Layla pushed away from the wall. "Maybe if you could actually grow a pair you'd do something about it before someone dies."

An orb of magic grew at the tips of Layla's fingers in a churning spiral.

"Where are you going?" Stella asked.

Layla rolled her eyes. "I'm fucking not going to be a part of this." Her hands clapped together over the orchid orb and Layla literally evaporated from the room, leaving its occupants in hellish anticipation.

**·**

"_Hush little Musey, don't say a word. Even if you could scream you wouldn't be heard."_

Musa groaned. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up." She slammed the base of her hand against her forehead. She couldn't stand the sound of Darcy's out of tune, crackly voice and it was driving her up the wall. She'd been singing for what Musa was sure had to have been hours. Even if it was only four minutes.

Darcy laughed. "Your powers aren't going to work here. You want to know why? It's because I don't want them to, sweetness."

Musa sensed the bluff; she just wasn't ready for Darcy to know. "What? Don't think you could win a fair fight?"

Darcy laughed. "Don't flatter yourself, pixie." She waved her hand and Musa suddenly found herself suspended by Darcy's magic. Musa groaned as the dark matter pulled her arms and legs apart. Darcy walked up to her and slashed her sharp nail across Musa's cheek.

"You're insane, Darcy." Musa spat at her shoes.

"I might be insane," Darcy dug her nail into the flesh above Musa's collar bone, twisting and slicing until it poured blood, "but the best part is that I choose how far you stretch." A quick snap of her fingers had each vortex increasing in size, growing and pulling her limbs more.

Musa bit her tongue to keep from screaming.

"You…_bitch_!"

"Witch, pixie." Darcy circled around the smaller fairy. She held her palms up to Musa's temples, an evil grin alight on her face.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Musa arched her neck away but to no avail. Darcy's fingers dug into her skin

"Stay still, Musey." Darcy's laugh stung Musa's ears before the pierce of her magic began to dig its way in. Darcy held Musa at arms length, feeding her jealousy into her attack. Darcy closed her eyes as she dug through Musa's mind, then smirked. "This is going to be completely painless. If you're me."

**·**

"Throwing my mother's death in my face. That's original, Darcy." Musa scrunched her eyes closed, as if the guilt playing before her wouldn't be inside of her.

"This is nothing. I'm trying to decide how you'd react if I convinced you to slit your friends throats one by one and then break Riven's neck with your bare hands." Darcy tilted her head to the side. "But the sad truth is that I'm getting bored. I think I'll just kill you. Riven will turn on the rest of them easily enough with you out of the way."

This was getting to be quite enough, Musa thought. She'd thought that many times. She'd tried, subtly at first, to break free, but when her attempts deemed futile, she'd stopped. Now, though, she could feel the chink in Darcy's powers. She could feel her control, however little there was, slipping more and more by the second. She could even move her painfully marred arms if she tried. Once her arms were free, she'd be free. She just needed to concentrate.

"You've humiliated me!" Darcy's rage returned suddenly with a vengeance. Darcy's violet plasmatic orb hit her in the chest, singing the worn fabric of Helia's tunic. "You—a worthless pixie! He picked _you_ over _me!_" Darcy flew into the air for the fifth time since Musa had been pulled into the void, her eyes glaring purple and her arms glowing with the same energy. "If he wants you so badly, then I'll just have to take you from him!"

Musa's hands slipped quickly from the restraints during Darcy's distraction. "Not fucking likely." Before she hit the ground, Musa's wings sprouted from her back, her clothes melting into thin red material (Her wing was still damaged and her boots were missing, but she was more powerful this way.) The fairy rose to meet her enemy's eyes—"You wanted a challenge, didn't you?"

"SONIC SHOCK!"

Darcy's eyes widened to saucers—

**·**

"How can she not be there?" Helia sunk into a chair beside Timmy and Flora came up behind him, dropping a towel onto his wet hair. He smiled up at her softly in gratitude. "Thank you."

Flora quirked an eyebrow. "Mhmm." She was still seething from her earlier explosion. Flora really wished they were at Alfea now. She'd make all of them her relaxing herbal tea and she wouldn't feel so horrible for feeling so angry. Her nose wrinkled and her teeth clenched and Flora turned away, busying herself with the boy's dying tree to keep herself calm.

Helia sighed.

"I've tried, Helia," Techna insisted from the other end of the screen, "but she's not even in this dimension." Techna tapped on some keys, frowning in concentration. "It might just be the storm, but I'm not getting _anything_."

Helia dropped his head into his hand, his fingers lacing through his hair in aggravation. He glared through slitted eyes at the image of the fairy. "You need to try harder."

"That's not fair, Helia," Timmy interrupted. He shook his head and slammed the comm device against the table, trying to break up some of the static. The picture cleared and his eyes were only loving as he stared at the pink haired girl. "Techna's trying her best."

"Well it's not enough." Helia's hand slid over his eyes. "I promised her mother I'd look out for her."

Flora's hand shook.

"Look, Helia, I'm trying. I've scanned the entire realm six times already but there's no sign of her." Techna shook her head. "I usually get a reading if she's anywhere within the nearest _seven_ realms." The fairy looked at Helia's face and pursed her lips. "I'll keep trying, though."

Behind Techna, Bloom crashed through the door, her hair tangled and mascara running. "Nothing!" she shouted, out of breath. Techna spun in her chair and looked at her doubled over friend.

"Are you sure, Bloom?"

Bloom nodded. "When Ms. F. couldn't find her, I went to ask the pixies. I just got back from the village; Lockette couldn't find her and Tune went into spasms when she tried to sense her." She fell onto Techna's lap, crying into her skirt. "This is all my fault," Bloom sobbed.

Techna raised her eyebrow. "How is that?"

Bloom's shoulders shook. "If I hadn't become a fairy the witches never would have targeted us and Musa wouldn't be missing now." She clenched her fists. "If only I was stronger—"

The girls and everyone but Sky rolled their eyes.

"Cut the shit Bloom," Stella groaned. It was ridiculous how she managed to turn everyone's problems into something that _she_ had to fix. Every damn time something happened to _anyone_ she'd crossed paths with…_ever_, Bloom blamed herself.

Bloom's teary eyes stared up at her through the phone. "What do you mean, Stella? It's my fault. I was the one—"

"I'm pretty sure it was Riven's fault, Bloom." Helia pressed a finger to his temple and his eyes went to Riven who was leaning against the wall in the back of the room, completely ignoring everyone. "He's the one who had to fuck with Darcy and drag Musa into it."

Riven snorted.

"Not again," Brandon groaned. "Don't start this again—"

"Shh," Techna cut in suddenly. Her eyes were focused on a spot to the right of the communicator. A loud 'blip' broke the hushed silence. "Guys," Techna breathed in alarm, "I found her."

Helia's eyes lit up.

The door slammed and everyone looked up. Riven was gone.

**·**

Darcy hit the soaked ground, sliding several feet in her shock. She reached up to her face and her fingers came away with blood, dripping down from her lip.

She couldn't believe it—that little bitch had broken out! She'd lost focus and the pixie had gotten free of her illusion.

Weakness was not an option.

Darcy shakily rose to her feet, her heels sinking into the ground. She ran the back of her hand across her mouth, spitting out blood in disgust. "You really shouldn't have done that, pixie." The witch flew into the air, her hair whipping around her like bladed tendrils.

"Why? You don't seem to be doing much about it."

Her eyes glowed purple as she attempted to invade the fairy's mind. "Psychic—"

Musa was quicker. "Ambience Impulse!" The pulses from Musa had Darcy sprawling for grasp on the ground. For a power supposed to be unseen, it sure packed a hell of a punch. Her ears pounded with the strain as the sounds lapped again and again against her.

"Bitch!" Darcy shook. "Let's see how well you do without your hearing! Cerebral Hemorrhage!"

The hit took Musa completely by surprise, causing her to fall back in agony as she clutched at her head, burning and searing from inside. Musa screamed in pain.

"MUSA!" was the last thing she heard before that high pitched, horrible buzzing filled her erupting mind, stripping her of her most depended sense. Musa's eyes flew open and she stared in horror at the red-haired hero running towards her.

Musa clenched her eyes closed again. "That's low even for you, Darcy," Musa yelled though she could not hear what she was saying. She felt hot tears running from her eyes and she forced herself to stand, if only to get away from the cruel apparition that the witch was using to torture her. She looked up at Darcy, whose cruel eyes looked from the _illusion_ of Riven (because Musa was _sure_ that he wouldn't really be there) to her, and the witch of darkness smirked, her lips twisting into something ugly and inhumane.

"What do you want me to say, Darcy?" Musa had finally caved as Riven came closer. "That I fell in love with him? I don't fucking want to—you can fucking have him." Musa's fists hit the ground, her nails digging into the dirt. One of Darcy's plasma balls hit her in the side. Her knees came up under her and she groaned. "Ah, it hurts."

Against the ground, Musa felt every vibration as far as the woods did reach. Pulses fluttered against her finger tips, including that of Riven's…_and_ Darcy's. Darcy's illusions always held the same heartbeat as she. So this must have meant…

"NO!" Musa shot up from the ground, throwing herself in Darcy's line of fire, right in front of Riven, and the bolt burnt the skin from her flesh, opening a patch of vibrant red where the blood began to ooze to the surface. Musa flinced, and Riven's arms wrapped around her, holding her close to him. She turned her glossy eyes up at him and Riven's mouth was moving, his brow furrowed in concern, as if he was speaking—or shouting, more of—at her. But she couldn't hear it.

Musa lifted her shaking hand to Riven's face gently. "I can't let her get to you, Riven." Her mind flashed to the moments she thought would never end when Darcy would impersonate those she loved most and then dig through her deepest suppressed memories. She shuddered. "I love you too much to make you go through that."

Riven tried visibly to hide a smirk. He mouthed, _'You love—?'_ and another of Darcy's orbs clipped the both of them on the shoulder. As Riven was beginning to turn as they were taught as a hero (keep civilians safe, even if it means to sacrifice your own safety), Musa shoved him with all her broken might away and turned to Darcy. Her ears began to ring in that high pitch again, and Musa knew she'd be able to use her powers to her best extent as soon as it stopped.

"I've had enough of this, Darcy."

Darcy's affronted eyes balked in renewed anger, her ego stricken once again. "Let's see how well you fight without your eyes, _pixie! _Apocalyptic Black-out!"

Musa knew she only had one chance to get this right.

"Catastrophic Compression!"

Blinding violet light erupted from both of them, one light and pulsating, one dark and sinister and encompusing. In the terror, Musa almost missed the spiraling vortex that appeared directly in the middle of the attacks.

A scream came from the air as the two attacks hit at an alarming force.

"LAYLA!"

Musa's eyes widened as she saw Layla falling from the site of the collision, her face depicting pain, and the incredibly tall wizard she'd met once before (Ofir) appeared from thin air and caught her just before she hit the ground.

The Princess of the Harmonic Nebula stared in shock. "Layla!?" Her eyes adjusted from the shock and she saw that, indeed, it was her short-haired friend lying there limp in the arms of Ofir, covered in dark residual magic from the hit. Musa lurched towards her, only to be intercepted by Darcy on every side.

Darcy smiled wickedly at the small crying girl. "Aw, did that hurt your little friend?" The fairy's fists clenched at her sides, feeling the vibrations in the ground and the air as the witch circled around her. "Gee, I bet it's a real killer that this was all your fau—"

Musa spun and lurched at the only corporeal version of Darcy, her sharp fingers biting into the witch's throat. The duo fell onto the ground and Musa's fingers pressed harder. "You bitch," she sobbed, "you like messing with emotions this much?" Musa's rage tapped into every face in her dreams, dying and screaming from their sealed lips with their bleeding eyes so accusing and blood thirsty and she used every ounce of her soul to draw that to her. "Let's see how you can deal with all the emotions of Styx at once."

For the first time in her life, Musa's magic was as red as blood and her attack came out of pure hatred. She pushed harder each drop of her winx until she saw Darcy's inhumane gold eyes begin to roll back, and both their bodies seized with the effort. Still, Musa held on.

Until she fell as well, her mind drowning in the emotions and pain.

* * *

**AN: You know, looking back over this, it's incredibly rushed... Aw, too bad. Because when someone's fighting life or death, they're really concerned enough about appearences and suspense to take it slow. **

**Reviewers will be treated with a chocolate chip cookie and a kiss on the cheek from Skandar Keynes....haha, that's a lie. But if it was true i'd review ;D**

**xxEcho.**


	15. Chapter 14

**Author: Forever Frozen aka Annabella West**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Winx Club. **

**Warning: Not really any. There's not much language in this chapter...for once. **

**Pairing: M/R**

**Thank you to everyone who sent me original reviews that _didn't _say "please review" or "i loved it". I honestly respect and love when i get reviews giving me pure unfilted thoughts and questions about my writing. There's not enough truth in the world.**

**So here's the next chapter. The 'fluffy-feel-good' chapter that i always find revoltingly fake, which is my reasoning for one more FINAL chapter. Only one more to go; I've got it written, I'm just going to wait a few days to see how much feedback i can get before i give it up.**

**So...go ahead and read it. Sequel is on the rise.**

* * *

Chapter 14.

When Musa finally came to, she did so slowly, as if her body was trying to reanimate itself after a long absence from its soul. Her eyes fluttered with the same steady pulse as her heart, which was so calmed that neither action was one to be taken into account. As her eyes finally drew open, though, she was met with an unceasing bright white light and Musa was sure she'd died. She blinked again, trying to clear her spotted vision, and stared in awe at the window; at the suns' rays, both shining brightly in the clear _blue_ sky for the first time in months.

Musa sighed, feeling calmed by the presence of Magix's two suns. She'd apparently made it to see them; with the way Darcy was playing her own strengths against her, Musa wasn't sure she'd have that chance again. She turned her aching neck about the room, soaking in her surroundings like a sponge; the only place she could figure she was would have to be Alfea's med bay. Her suspicions were confirmed when the school's jolly looking nurse, Ms. Ofelia, hobbled over to her and checked her pulse.

"Good," the middle aged fairy nodded to herself, "very good." She patted Musa's hand with a withered reassuring smile. "Well, dear, your winx is severely depleted but it looks like you'll live to see another day. Perhaps you'll have more luck trying to convince your friends of it. Then they'd stop cluttering up my infirmary." The white dressed woman shook her head and opened the door to the sick room on her way to the small closet of a room she called an office.

She may have looked tickled pink, but Ofelia had a vicious monetary streak when it came to her medical room. The less students, the less mess she had to clean up.

Musa's tired eyes followed the tall blonde as she sauntered her way through the door, wearing a cheery green and blue sundress with her hair loosely strung up with ribbons. Musa smiled. "You look much better, Stell." The colour had finally returned to her with the sunlight and she no longer looked like the living dead. If Musa wasn't mistaken, Stella even seemed to glow.

"Thank you, dawling," Stella giggled, throwing a lock of golden hair back over her shoulder with a dainty swish. She settled at a chair at Musa's side with an aristocratic elegance and looked over her friend. "I wish I could say the same to you, but all your little bumps and bruises look even worse than they did before." Stella winced at an especially sore spot just below Musa's jaw. Stella's face drooped in defeat. "You really had me freaked out there, Musa."

Musa nodded. "I know. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You weren't," Stella smirked. "But do you want to know what _I_ was thinking the whole time?"

"Not really," Musa chuckled weakly. "I don't ever really want to know what goes on in your head. Especially during a storm."

Stella rolled her hazel eyes. "Like you're one to talk. You were more messed up during this storm than the rest of us put together." Stella reached down and wiped a patch of non-existent dirt from her off-white ankle boots. "Really, though," Stella continued with an off-handed insistence that only she could pull off, "guess."

Musa sighed, sinking back into the too warm and too worn feeling mattress and pillows. She hated not moving for long periods of time. "Let me guess; you didn't know if I was out there, cold and alone or if I was even alive at all without anyone to help me." She rolled her eyes.

Stella stared severely at her without blinking. "Musa, that's exactly what I was thinking. Only this time I was right. Wasn't I?"

"Yes, Stella. This time, you were right." Musa winced at the memory; she never wanted to feel that helpless. "But Riven came. And Layla did too." Musa's throat tightened. She looked up into the taller girl's eyes, concern leaking as tears from her own. "How is Layla?"

Stella pursed her lips and turned to point at another occupied bed in the room, a bed where their dark friend lay slumbering with enchanted bandages covering the top half of her face. "She lost her sight," Stella admitted somberly. "Faragonda and Nurse"—Musa never would understand Stella's insistence to never call Ofelia anything other than _Nurse_—"have been working with her on her good days. They had a few of the healing council come down to see what they can do about it, but nothing's worked so far." Stella shrugged. "You know Layla, though. She'll push through anything." Stella's face was alight with something akin of a renewed respect in their fellow princess that Musa hadn't recognized in her before. "She's being great about it, though. She's even got people convinced it doesn't bother her."

But Stella wasn't fooled.

Stella laughed at the trail her thoughts had veered onto. "Bloom's convinced it's her fault, you know? That _both_ of you ended up in here." She chuckled bitterly. "I don't think she lives in the same world as us; Bloom. It's like…she thinks that having the DragonFire is like having the ultimate power and having the world balancing on her shoulders." She shook her head. "She won't just accept that things happen that you can't always do anything about."

"Sometimes it's good to have that much perseverance," Musa tried to push. She couldn't take her own words seriously, though; what Bloom had wasn't perseverance. It was a superiority complex coated in a need for angst.

Stella shook her head. "No, not really. I mean, I love Bloom; don't get me wrong. But the girl needs a serious reality check. Not everything is about her." After that, Stella settled into silence as her mind mulled over her words. Musa noticed that for the first time since she'd known Stella, the sun fairy wasn't constantly hammering away at the keys on her cell phone.

Musa sighed. "What about Darcy?"

Stella rocked back in her chair and drew in an exasperated breath. "Oh stars, Darcy." She chuckled and rolled her eyes slightly. "He really loves you, you know," Stella's eyes bore into Musa's with the statement. She waved her hand around to accentuate her words. "It took me...well, Flora…_and _Brandon _and _Helia to hold him back from killing Darcy himself after you two started strangling each other." Stella smiled. "I don't want to say I told you so, but..."

"If you don't want to say it then don't," Musa snapped. She wrung out her hands. "I didn't kill her, did I?"

Stella's voice rose back to its cheery octave. "So what if you did? She deserves it."

"I can't be like her, Stella." Musa closed her eyes tightly and stared out at the courtyard of Alfea. "If I killed her then I'm no better."

Stella's morose eyes studied her friend's withdrawn face. "Don't worry about it, Musa. You didn't kill her." _Unfortunately_, she muttered to herself. She pulled at the blue ribbon on her dress. "A few minutes after you passed out, Griselda and Codatorta showed up with Mages and Guards. The Mages said that your spell worked as a barrier that held her inside her own mind and now the guards have her set and frozen for a one way ticket to the Omega dimension." Stella rolled her eyes. "If I'd had it my way, I would've killed her myself. But _no_," she jumped to her feet, waving her hands. "Apparently they didn't have enough evidence to say that she really _killed_ anyone so the punishment had to fit the crime." Stella fell back into the chair and huffed, crossing her arms under her chest. "I don't see _her_ being skinned and tortured."

Musa's eyes went wide with fear. "Skinned?" She ran her hand up her face, feeling her stinging skin.

"Exaggeration, hun," Stella said quickly.

Stella's phone rang. She pulled it out of her boot and lifted it to her ear. "Heya schnookums!" Stella's smile grew as wide as her face would allow. On the other side of the room, Layla jolted awake at the sound of the peppy, loud voice. "Yeah, she's awake." Stella looked at Musa and smiled wickedly. "Love to. Bye."

"That was the least informative conversation you've ever had, Stella," Musa mumbled. Her eyes were starting to drift closed once again.

Stella lurched at her and grabbed her arm. "Nuh uh, Musey." Stella placed her hands on her wrists so as not to touch any bruises and pulled her to her shaking feet. "You're finally awake, so we're going to mingle."

"What about Layla? I don't want to leave her alone!" Musa protested. She really meant _I don't want to go_!

Layla laughed hoarsely and waved her hands at Ofelia's door. "Don't worry about me, guys," she pointed at the doorknob. "You two get out of here and go socialize."

"Over here, Layla," Stella called, waving at the blind girl without a thought. "And don't worry." Her smile grew sinister as she pulled the music fairy to the hallway, despite the med fairy and the blue haired girl's shouts of protest. "After I get Musa all dawled up, I'll be back for _y-o-u_!"

Layla groaned and fell back onto the pillow.

**°·**

Musa stood in front of the mirror staring at the picture of herself that the world was going to see. She tugged at the hem of the orange sun dress—it seemed now that the weather was picking up, Stella had a renewed obsession with the light dresses—and wished that it covered more of her bruised and scraped arms. At least the leggings covered the battered flesh of her legs. Vibrant raspberry leggings, the kind that made you unsure if you wanted to puke at the colour or stick it in a tube and call it cheap lipstick. Cerulean boots sat upon her feet, adding enough inches that Musa was eye level with the blonde fairy, and Musa didn't think she'd ever seen so many strange colours in one ensemble that Stella had put together.

"This is a nightmare," Musa assured herself aloud as Stella ran her hands through her friend's midnight hair, spreading a curling charm throughout the freshly washed locks. "It's a nightmare and I'm going to wake up and find out that I'm dead because Darcy killed me."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, Musa. If you died you wouldn't wake up."

Musa shook her head. "Nope, this is a nightmare. And I'm dying." She tried not to smirk. "I'm sure you tried your best to save me after you found me cold and alone without anyone to help me, but your valiant efforts were in vain. I fear I shall perish with the leaves, decay with time." Stella pinched her and Musa jumped. "What?" she insisted. "It's true."

Stella sighed dramatically. "And people say _I'm_ melodramatic." She swished her hair over her shoulder and stared at her reflection, turning to admire her figure in the glass. "You really need to stop hanging out with your cousin, dawling. You're starting to talk like him."

Musa turned around and faced her friend, her tired eyes amused as she stared her in the eye (since she could for once without standing on a box or stairs). "Would you rather I talk like you?" Musa held her hand up to her heart and looked up at the ceiling airily. "Like, I totally like, love my dawling schnookums! Sun power!" Stella punched her in the shoulder, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to unsteady her on her heels and make her bones ache a bit more than they still did. "Ow."

"Now you're mocking me." Stella crossed her arms and pouted. "I dressed you up bea-u-tifully and you're mocking me."

Musa shook her head. "Yes, I'm mocking you. This is a nightmare. I'm wearing a dress. An _orange_ dress." She pulled the straps of her dress up and frowned. "Stell, I don't think that orange is my colour." She walked over to Stella's bed and sat down. "Oh, too bad. I guess I just can't go meet everyone." She smiled to herself and fell back onto the cushy pillows.

Stella's eye twitched. "No way. Even Layla's coming out with us. It's a Saturday; you're not backing out of this, Musa. No way." She pulled Musa from the bed. "You're going out because they haven't seen you in twelve days."

"I'm all bruised. And scarred." Musa held out her elbow and twisted it in front of her face. "It's gross."

Stella smiled softly. "Don't worry, Musa. Riven's still going to think you're beautiful."

Musa's eyes widened and she jumped back. "Riven's going to be there?"

She hadn't actually talked to him since…well, since she'd yelled at him not to touch her. She hadn't seen him since she told him she loved him. And she still didn't want to face his reaction in person; When she'd said it, she didn't even know it was really him and then she'd jumped to strangling Darcy as soon as she realized it _was_.

Stella smoothed her hair. "Of _course _he's going to be there. He's been missing you. Come on," she said, pulling at Musa's scathed hands, "Let's go get Layla freshened up and get those nasty mummy sunglasses off her face. Then we'll go see your lover boy." She winked.

**°·**

Stormy tucked her hands inside the deep pockets of her navy blue coat-dress as the chilling wind whipped around her, burning her flushed skin and making her hair fly about her like writhing snakes. She wore blue for the first time since she was four for one sole reason—in Icy's…honour. Not that honour was a word she generally connected with the woman who murdered her husband.

The weather witch stared down at the cold headstone already covered with ice and snow, a freshly dug grave now hidden beneath the white blanket, with the woman's name scrawled across it—her real name, not just the one she'd adapted when she arrived at Cloud Tower with hopes and dreams to be revered and feared. Neuge. Icy wasn't even her real name, but it was her soul. Witches often changed their names to fit their aspirations.

She hated being here, in the mountains of Magix where her once friend had lived from her birth. Stormy especially hated that she was the only one who had attended the funeral where her previous friend had been buried; wearing the only colour she loved besides white, blue, and black—a serene shade of bright forest green. She hated that even though Icy—Neuge in her death—had hurt her worst, defying all their years of the ceremonious sister-witch alliance, by hurting her least and instead hurting the only man she'd ever loved—the only _person_ she'd ever loved—she was still the only one to come say goodbye. Even Icy's (Neuge, Stormy kept telling herself) own parents didn't show up as their daughter was lowered six feet into the frozen mountainside. They'd called her a disgrace and a menace and weak for failing to retain her stature as the greatest witch to ever bring hell to Magix. When they'd taken over Magix all those years ago, they were _so proud_. _So_ proud.

Stormy fell to her knees in the six inch deep snow, the wet shaking her to her core. She knew she'd have to leave soon (for the safety of herself and her baby). But still, for some reason she couldn't give up in her sister so soon.

She placed her hand over the engraved name and sighed. "This is Darcy's fault," she said to the symbol of the witch's wasted life. Her other hand reached up and felt at the gash on her forehead drawn together with mundane stitches (for any use of magic would potentially damage the child in her womb) in remembrance of just how much of the past year had been Darcy's fault. None of this would have happened if Darcy hadn't broken Icy out from the asylum and shown up on her doorstep with the shaking witch in her arms and said that they had to stick together through it. Darcy had stolen her life more entirely than in their whole school years in just those five minutes.

Stormy's tongue ran over her chapped lips and her breath clouded the air. "I'm not going to let her get away with it, Neuge," she promised. The name felt foreign in her mouth.

She'd heard of Darcy's incarceration the previous morning and had almost laughed in joy. But still, Stormy held fast to her promise.

Darcy had escaped from a prison before. And even one as prestigious as the Omega dimension, she knew, wouldn't hold out to Darcy's strongest will. Stormy would be there when it happened. She _would_ not let her get away with destroying their lives.

**°·**

Musa and Stella both held onto Layla as they worked their way, silently, out of the infirmary and down to the courtyard. They were supposed to be leading her so that in her sightless state she wouldn't trip or get hurt, but Layla's grip on Musa made Musa sure that Layla knew her way around and not only did she not want Musa to bail, but she also wasn't sure that _Musa_ would not get hurt on their walk. Layla could feel the way her body was shaking unintentionally and she'd hiss anytime she moved a bit wrong. Layla wondered why the Mages hadn't tried to heal _Musa_ rather than just focusing on she, but whenever she asked the question to the headmistress or Nurse Ofelia, they just gave her strange grave looks and busied themselves elsewhere.

Musa was muttering to herself. She didn't like this situation at all and though her heart was soaring at the prospect of seeing the flame-haired hero-in-training, her stomach was doing flips just the same. She felt sick.

"How come Layla doesn't have to wear a dress?" Musa asked a moment later as they descended the front entrance stair cases. She looked over at Layla, wearing a light hoodie and a pair of shorts, and pouted. "You made me wear a dress."

Stella rolled her eyes. It was the fourth time that Musa had brought it up since they'd helped Layla into the ensemble. She gritted her teeth. _Stay sunny, stay sunny_, Stella kept instructing herself. "Because," Stella chirped, false joy leaking from her throat, "Layla didn't want to wear a dress."

Musa's eyes bulged, "Neither did I, Stell!"

Layla groaned. She attempted to roll her eyes, but the motion burned and she imagined that it had less of an affect than when she could see.

"Layla's more important, Musa," Stella joked. Layla chuckled.

"Feelin' the love, Stell," Musa muttered as they pushed through the doors. Musa stood in awe at the sight of the beautiful spring day. The sun was shining, the birds were darting back and forth playfully, the flowers had once again shown their faces (no doubt because of Flora's influence), and the fairies of Alfea were soaking it all up, laughing and just enjoying that the Storm had passed.

Stella smiled. "You know we love you." She looked around Layla to see her friend's pale face. "You know, when you smile you look so much happier." Her nose wrinkled. "Even if you are paler than a corpse."

Layla laughed and Musa just smiled more. Together, the three of them walked over towards the fountain in the middle of the courtyard where their three friends sat around with the specialists, waiting. Catching sight of her, Helia was the first to jump up and he ran (well, walked very quickly) to scoop his cousin into a gentle hug.

"You scared the life out of me, Musa," he told her shakily. Musa nodded and pulled away from him, tears in her eyes.

"It's my job to keep you on your toes," she said, trying to keep from saying anything that would betray her front. The truth was that she felt honestly touched that everyone seemed to have been so worried about her. She also felt guilty that they did and even though masking her gratitude in sarcasm and jokes made it easier to deal with for her, it caused her guilt to sky-rocket even more. Musa sniffed.

Helia wiped away a wandering tear from her cheek with the sleeve of his shirt and he frowned. "If it happens again, I'll kill you myself." He said it so seriously that everyone almost believed him.

"No," Musa laughed, "you won't. You'd never give up your pacifist ways."

Brandon coughed, remembering how _intact_ Helia's 'pacifist ways' had been after Musa left.

Helia smirked. "Maybe not to the extent of murder," he justified. He leant down and hugged her again. "But you're my only sister and I won't take losing you well."

Musa smiled. She looked around at her friends. "I'm sorry."

Brandon shrugged. "It's alright, Musa."

"It wasn't your fault," Techna added.

"It was mine." Bloom frowned. "I don't see how you could ever possibly forgive me; but I'm really, really sorry."

"Shut up, Bloom," Stella snapped. She crossed her arms as she leant against Brandon's shoulder. "Musa can make a mess of her own life without you being to blame for it."

Bloom's face puckered and her sky blue eyes watered. She looked at Musa, searching for what appeared to be forgiveness, but Musa wasn't even looking at her. Instead, while trying not to laugh, Musa was looking around the courtyard. Because he wasn't there.

"Where's Riven?" She finally asked after not seeing him anywhere there. She looked over at Sky. "Stella said he'd be here."

The blonde prince shook his head. He was rubbing his girlfriends…_back_, comforting her after being snapped at. "He wasn't there when we left," he amended softly.

"Come to think of it," Timmy added, adjusting his wide framed glasses, "he never even came in last night."

Musa's tears stuck on the lump forming in her throat. "Oh," she managed weakly.

"I thought you told Stella that," Sky turned to Brandon to say. Brandon nodded.

"I did." He looked down at Stella. "Why didn't you tell her?"

Stella's wide hazel eyes looked up in alarm at Musa. "I'm sorry." She looked down at the skirt of her dress. "I thought if I told you that you wouldn't come."

Musa managed a small smile and shook her head. "It's no big deal, Stell." Her fingers started to pick at her dress. "I didn't want to come anyway so I don't think it would have made me change my mind." She chuckled falsely as she looked down at her boots. "Besides, I think this is probably…" Musa stopped short.

A bike was coming up to the gates, much faster than the teachers would approve of.

Musa knew that bike's sound by heart. "Much simpler…this way…" She spoke breathlessly and her heart hammered painfully in her chest. The rider stopped just short of the gates and got off, removing his helmet. Musa's stomach lurched and before she realized she'd started to, she was running across the courtyard towards Riven. Somewhere between point _A_ and _B_ her shoes had fallen from her feet.

"Musa, your shoes!" Stella had yelled at her; Musa didn't give a shit.

"They're great, Stella!" she yelled back.

He was just walking through the gates. Musa threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head down and she kissed him.

Riven pulled away from her, his brows drawn together. Musa could feel emotions coming from him; pure nervousness, surprise, confusion, relief, and even the faintest love. She smiled.

"What was that for?" Riven asked, his lips drawing into his signature smirk.

Musa bit her lip. "Well…I'm sorry. That I was such a bitch to you…"

He chuckled. "Don't be. You're hot when you're pissed off." Musa's face flushed and she looked down. Riven's hands went to her waist. "Did you mean what you said?"

She looked up at him in confusion. "What? That I said I was sorry for being a bitch?"

"No," Riven rolled his eyes. "When you were yelling at Darcy, you said that you loved me." Riven suddenly looked very uncomfortable and he moved his hands from her waist. "Did you mean it?"

Musa's heart stopped and her mouth gaped open. "I…um…" Musa ran her hand through her curled hair.

"Because if you did," Riven said, "I think that I'd be okay with it."

That took the wind right out of her. Musa looked up at him, her eyes alight with a strange spark. Musa chewed on her lip, smiling, and she let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah, I meant it. I still do." He deserved to know.

For the first time, Riven's smile was genuine and heartfelt and it melted his hardened expression to one that Musa nearly fainted at; pure and heart-shattering. He kissed her and Musa's arms went around his neck. Riven's arms around her waist, hugging her tighter to him gently, was the only way he could say it too. That he did care as much as she did.

"Get a room!" Brandon shouted. Stella smacked the back of his head.

Secretly, Helia approved.

* * *

**AN: Only one more chapter to go...**

**So, here's chapter 14. I hope y'all liked it. It was a little...meh for me. Not too good with the fluffy feel good moments and i can't seem to write Musa happily. Whatever.**

**Yep, so Layla's blind, Darcy's been shipped off, Bloom's being all self-blaming, Riven's holding back, and Musa's giving in. I definately have to say I enjoy writing Stormy. And i thought Icy deserved a more real name than that of an icicle.**

**I'm just going to clear up that it was the STORM that killed Icy. She was clinically insane and under the same storm-induced sickness that killed both Helia's mother, Musa's mother, and the sisters' friend years before. The storm perminently tainted Icy, which battled within her own self conscious from three points; her own insanity, her natural power thirst and tendancies, and the storm's emotional interference. Darcy didn't kill her. In a way, she killed herself.**

**Please Review.**

**xxEcho.**


	16. Chapter 15

**Author: .ForeverFrozen. aka Annabella West**

**Disclaimer: I don't own winx club. If i did, it probably wouldn't be considered a child's TV show anymore.**

**Rating: T for language and fucked up people.**

**Warning: Well...you know the jist.**

**Pairs: Um........well, M/R.**

**Thank you, everyone who reviewed. And here it is the...**

**VERY LAST CHAPTER!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 15.**

**_Three Months Later…_**

Musa sat atop the railing overlooking the forest at Red Fountain, her legs hanging over the side with nothing the two hundred feet between her and the ground. The cool breeze kissed her cheeks and her hair and Musa sighed, chewing at her lip while she stared across the tree tops. Her hand, resting lightly on the ledge beside her, shook while she thought through her tangled thoughts.

She'd finally gotten a break from the long period of stress and then, just when she thought it would subside for some time, _this_ happened.

She felt so nauseous. It was getting worse, she noticed; the nausea. More frequent and violent. Many days she woke up and ran to regret her dinner the last day. And Musa wasn't stupid; she knew what all this meant. She wasn't happy about it, but she'd accept it and own up to it.

On her own.

"What are you doing out here?" Flora came up behind her friend, her skirt making just enough of a swishing noise in the wind to alert her without frightening her. Her gentle hand went to Musa's cold shoulder. "There's a great party going on inside," the flower fairy mused, "and you're missing it. This isn't like you, Musa."

Musa shrugged. "I know." She slowly turned, so as not to lose her balance, and she smiled at Flora. "It was getting crowded in there. I'm not the best company right now."

"Neither is Riven, honey, but he still wants you in there." Flora smiled teasingly. "He's been looking for you."

Musa scoffed. "Let him. You found me so I'm apparently not that hard to find."

Flora's smile fell from her face at the words. "I thought you two were getting along."

"We were," Musa admitted. She wouldn't lie to Flora. It wasn't fair as she'd been nothing but truthful to her. Flora sunk down onto the ground beside Musa against the ledge, pressing the skirt of her dress down over her legs whereas Musa just let hers fall wherever it wanted to.

"Well…what happened?" Flora asked after several moments when Musa stayed silent. The short-haired brunette was _sure_ that Musa was going to say more after her declaration of 'we were' but it didn't come.

Musa rolled her eyes and stared at her friend. "Really, Flo?" She shook her head. "You've seen us. We just can't get along. We _don't_ get along. We just…clash." Her fingers, demonstrating the situation as if explaining it to a child, meshed with a dramatic explosion of a small amount of energy. She put her hands down, resting on her stomach. "It's just too difficult to keep it going."

Flora's brows rose in surprise, in concern, and in disappointment. "Are you saying…?"

"Yeah, Flo." Musa couldn't hear someone else say it.

Flora sighed. "Well, why did you wait until now?" She couldn't grasp the concept. "Why not before, when you started fighting again?"

Musa herself didn't quite know why—she'd just never been able to, never had the strength to make herself do it. She kept holding onto a hope that he might hold on tighter, despite his character that stated he wouldn't. She still had hoped though.

"I didn't want to ruin his graduation," was the explanation that Musa gave Flora. It was the truth.

Flora tucked her chin-length hair behind her ear. "Musa…" She sighed again. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" She reached over and patted Musa's leg. "I don't want you to regret your choice, sweetie. Maybe you should take time to think about it."

"I've been thinking about it since we got together and the only thing I regret is taking this long." She'd take as long as she needed to convince herself of that fact.

Flora stood and looked down at her blue haired friend with a frown. "You're going to rip yourself apart, Musa." The tan skinned fairy turned her head, catching sigh of Musa's red-haired boyfriend, and she turned to leave. "I just wish you didn't have to drag him along for the pain."

Musa watched as her friend walked away, her pride shriveling as she went and guilt taking its place. Her nausea grew worse.

"Hey Muse," Riven said as he came closer to her and joined her on the grass. "Why aren't you in there celebrating and stuff? Isn't dancing your thing or something?" He picked at the grass beneath his fingers; Riven knew something was wrong.

Musa grimaced. "You shouldn't stereotype people, Riven. Just because I'm a music fairy doesn't mean I have to dance."

Riven frowned. "I didn't mean anything by it, Muse."

She shrugged. "It's your graduation anyway. Why aren't you in there?"

"I don't do crowds."

Musa bit her lip. She saw Riven's face in her peripheral vision. She knew—absolutely knew—that if she didn't do it while her heart was still racing, giving her that extra boost she needed, she'd never do it. But she still didn't want to.

"We—" Musa cleared her throat after her voice broke. She swallowed and moved her hands to beneath her knees so they wouldn't shake. "We're not working, Riven."

Riven stilled. For a moment he stood motionlessly, repeating her words over and over in his mind. He turned his head in the opposite direction that Musa was and ground his teeth. "You think?"

"I know," Musa said. "We don't work, Riven. We never have. We're too different and way to alike." Musa groaned and jumped to her feet, pressing her hand to her nose to keep herself from crying. What right did she have? "So I think it's best if we just…quit before anything happens."

Riven scoffed to hide the hurt. "Before anything happens, huh? A little late there for that, aren't you?"

"You have _no_ idea how late," Musa muttered under her breath. She brushed her bangs back, wishing she'd cut them when she'd pulled them back into low pigtails earlier. The juvenility of the look was once a comfort o her and at one time anything else would have left her feeling out of place and exposed. Now it just made her feel nauseous and she wished she could rip them from her head. "Look, Riven," she said louder for his convenience, "I don't want to make an issue of this, okay? That's the whole reason I'm saying all this." She sighed. "I can't try this hard. I just can't do this; not with you going off to do whatever while I'm still at Alfea for another year."

"Because that's such a big deal for you," Riven snipped. He couldn't believe that someone who had been intent on defying curfew for two years would suddenly worry about going off campus to meet their boyfriend.

Musa growled. "You're missing the point, Riven!" She threw her hands in the air in frustration. "I don't _want_ to do this anymore." Musa pulled her arms in and walked briskly back into the Red Fountain celebration hall, leaving Riven sitting alone on the grass knowing that they both should have said different things.

For the first time in his life, Riven hated his pride that kept him from going after her.

**°·**

The six friends stood outside of Alfea with their bags sitting by their sides, waiting for their turn at the school's portal for their trip home for the summer. The seniors were first, leaving the winx girls with very little time before their turns (as they were juniors entering into their final year come fall).

Bloom was saying her last goodbyes when she was called. She let go of Musa, apologizing for 'getting her into this nightmare in the first place' yet again.

Musa just barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Don't stress it, Bloom. I've gotten over it." Stella chuckled at that.

The other girls started leaving one by one after that; first Techna, then Flora (who promised to visit over the summer when she was visiting Helia), and lastly Layla who was escorted by the wizard Ofir—or, Nabu.

It turned out that he was a prince. The prince whose parents, together with Layla's parents, had decided would be married. The kings and queens were unshakable on the decision. Neither was thrilled by the prospect, but Nabu was at least gentlemanly enough to assist her home and explain to her parents the events of the year. Musa could feel that despite all their arguing and biting dislike of each other that there was genuine adoration and respect from both of them. Musa just hoped that they'd realize it themselves before they gave up and made a scene.

"Bye, Layla," Musa said to her as she hugged her friend once more. She gently touched Layla's soft short hair and stared at her milky eyes with a frown. "I really am sorry. I'll try my best to get your sight back, I promise."

Layla laughed. "Don't worry about me, Musa. Really; I know it was an accident." She sighed and tugged at the hem of her yellow smiley face tank top. "The Mages have done their best. I'll just have to learn to deal with it."

Nabu tenderly touched Layla's shoulder. "It's time to go now."

Layla laid her hand on his arm and before stepping into the portal, she turned around and shouted, "Kick that bitch's ass for me, Musa!"

Musa laughed.

"I don't think you know what you're doing to yourself, Musa," Stella said in her faux cheery voice as stood beside her best friend.

Musa nodded. "Probably not. But it's my life and I have to be the one to mess it up my own way."

Stella looked at Musa's abdomen. She looked up into Musa's eyes. "Tell me the truth, Musa."

"You already know it. I don't see why I have to tell you." She couldn't look her in the eye.

It'd been just what Stella feared. Things started to spin into perspective in her own way, things that she never would have connected before then. "Have you told him?" The merriment in her voice melted like ice.

Musa shook her head. "It's better this way." She didn't want his rejection.

"Princess Stella, it's your turn," Griselda said sternly, her lips pursed. Of all the students in Alfea, she disliked Stella and Bloom the most, Musa coming in a close second after this year.

Stella waved her hand, her pink suitcases hovering behind her. "I'll see you next year?" Musa understood the question in the statement.

"I hope so." She pulled her blonde friend into a hug. "Goodbye, Stella."

Stella stepped up to the portal. She was halfway through, and then she stepped back as if in realization. "Okay, Musey, I know this is completely cliché, but you know I'm here for you right?" Stella's smile was gone, replaced with a completely grievous face.

Musa smiled. "Always, Stella. I know."

**°·**

The air vessel soared through the stars at speeds that insured none would intercept their cargo. It was soundless as a whisper and large as a ship could be before it was considered a moon.

Inside the interior was bleakly lit, the walls a mechanical grey with twisted metal and frost spinning through the air at each cell and dank blue lights lit the rooms.

The prisoners, the lucky ones, still had the means for their teeth to chatter as they pushed against their cell doors hoping for a breath of warmth. They watched with bloodshot eyes as each guard passed or sat dormant outside their cells, watching and waiting for their shift change. Several mobilized inmates stared at the frozen block encasing their most recent arrival as the ship began to enter the planet's orbit.

"Sir," the guard spoke, his breath fogging from his mouth in the frigid temperature, "we are approaching the Omega dimension prison. Shall I release the prisoner?" The man's thickly gloved hand hovered above the lever, ready to shift it the second he'd gotten the go from his superior. He wanted the witch gone; she made them all uncomfortable. When she was awake, she probed their minds and even the anti-magic properties all around them couldn't cancel out _that_ intrusion.

The tall, thin man adjusted his glasses on his severe, long face as he circled the block of ice in which the tall witch was encased in. His white lab coat brushed against the ice and he pressed his bare hand to the smooth surface. A digital scanner beeped as he held it to the face exposed and he smiled at the results. "No," the man drawled with a regal air, "not just yet. She could prove to be of interest to me."

"But Sir," the guard protested weakly, "The Mages' gave direct orders to—"

"The Mages?" The man turned and stared down the security guard, his pale eyes burning. "The Mages are in a completely different dimension. I am the supervising Lieutenant General on this ship. You will do as I say, am I clear?" The man's grip on the scanner increased, creating a slight creaking noise.

The guard shrunk back, his eyes wide beneath the thick visors. "Yes, Sir." He removed his hand from the ejection panel and stepped away, his hands behind his back, on high alert for his next order. "Leaving Omega prison, Sir."

The man smiled cruelly and went back to the only prisoner encased in ice. He circled it once more and stopped, taking his fogged up glasses off and clipping them onto the pocket in his coat. "Guard?" He snapped.

The other prisoners were watching with morbid fascination.

"Y-yes, Sir?" the guard stuttered, gulping. Everyone knew it was best to fear the Lieutenant. If not, you no longer had the opportunity to.

The long faced man squared up his shoulders as he rose to his full height. "Take this prisoner to one of the observation cells."

"Sir?" That was definitely against the Mages' orders. No one disobeyed the Mages.

"Delta deck, section seven." He ran his hand over the ice, clearing the perspiration on the smooth surface to clearly see the woman's face, holding a name plate around her neck. "Keep her on ice. For now; I want to take my time with this one."

"What…sir?"

The man bristled and turned abruptly, his arms flailing around in rage. "Are you incompetent, guard? Do you honestly not understand my orders?" He raised his scanner to a control panel, downloading the information into the database. "I will only say this once more, guard. Take Darcy down to the observation deck. Now."

**Fin.**

* * *

**Short, wrenching, and foreboding; Well, there's the end of it. I'm starting a sequel, but who knows how long that'll take.**

**Leave me reviews, please!**

**xxEcho.**


	17. Reconciliation

**My first full-length completed fanfiction. And now the sequel's in the works. **

**Reconciliation.**

**Check it out if you wanna hear more of the story**

**xxEcho**


End file.
